A Fiery December
by EvergreenDreamweaver
Summary: An ideal situation: a working vacation for Fenton, ten days in Hawaii during Christmas break for the whole Hardy family, Megan and Vanessa. But the boys are always on the lookout for a potential case, and can't resist the lure of a mystery. And then, some of the locals seem to take an unusual interest in these visitors from the Mainland. Follows Ghost of November Past.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 _Note: Please be advised that there is, at least, mention of potential premarital sex involving the Hardy brothers and their significant others. If this bothers you, as I know it does some, you may object to some parts of the story._

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 1

"Wow, you're all spiffed up!" Joe Hardy commented, when his older brother Frank came down the stairs, sliding his arms into his sports coat sleeves. "It's about time you and Megan tried out _Miracles Can Happen_!" Joe had been lying comfortably on the family room couch, his blonde head resting on several pillows as he perused a well-scribbled notebook. Now he set the book down and surveyed Frank with admiring blue eyes.

"I know; we've been meaning to go," Frank said, grinning ruefully. "But I wanted it to be a special occasion. It doesn't get much more special than this." The dark-haired young man settled his jacket into place and buttoned it. "Can't believe Megan's turning twenty! She doesn't look twenty!"

"Neither do you, but that didn't stop you from doing it…. Wonder what it's like to be a Christmas baby," Joe speculated, turning his gaze to the glittering, decorated spruce tree standing in the corner of the family room. "I think I'd feel gypped – Christmas presents and birthday presents, all in a lump!"

"It's only the tenth; Megan's not a Christmas baby!" Frank argued. "Two weeks in between just means that a Christmas wish list gets refined, and I have to think of two presents in quick succession!" he added, chuckling.

"I suppose so," Joe conceded, and prepared to return to his studies. It was finals week at Bayport Community College, and Joe was feeling the pressure of his first college final exams.

"About ready to go?" The boys' slender blonde mother Laura entered the room from the direction of the kitchen. "You look very nice, Frank!" she added, smiling affectionately at her tall, dark, eldest son, whose lean good looks were accentuated by his dress clothes.

"Thanks, Mom." Frank gave her a grateful glance. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Wish Megan a happy birthday for us," Laura reminded him. "And tell her that I'm intending to make Christmas cookies on Saturday, if she wants to come over and help!"

Frank laughed. "I'll tell her," he promised, and headed for the door.

Outside, it was cool and damp, but Bayport hadn't yet been hit with snow this year. Instead, it remained cold and foggy, with frequent rain showers. Those persons who were yearning for a white Christmas were beginning to lose hope, as day after day went by and no snow fell, but Frank wasn't one of those people, and he was personally glad not to have to battle icy driving conditions. He climbed into his Saturn and started the engine.

###

Fifteen minutes later he parked in the Wrights' driveway, and went up to the front door. Megan and her mother had managed to get the outside lights up early, he noted, admiring the cascades of white icicle lights hanging from the eaves. He wondered idly which one of them ascended the ladder…or perhaps they took turns! Mellow doorbell chimes sounded as he pushed the button, and in a few seconds, footsteps approached from the other side, and the door was opened.

"Hello, Frank!" Red-haired Carolyn Wright smiled at him warmly. "Come on in, Megan should be ready in just a moment."

Frank stepped into the entry hall, then followed Mrs. Wright into the family room. He was completely at home here, nearly as much so as in his own home, and he made himself comfortable on the couch. Carolyn resumed her task of hanging ornaments on the bushy fir tree beside the windows, chatting as she did so.

"How's your mom, Frank? I keep intending to call her – well, I've tried, once or twice – but when I'm home, she's not, and vice versa. I want to get together with her before the holidays; her and Andrea Bender both!"

"She's okay, Mrs. Wright; she's busy with Christmas stuff, just like you are. But I know she'd like that." Frank rose to his feet. "Can I hang some of those higher ones for you?" he offered.

Carolyn, being only slightly taller than her petite daughter, accepted with alacrity, and started handing Frank ornaments, one after another, as they chatted.

"I see you've been drafted," Megan's amused voice floated over the casual conversation.

Frank turned, a welcoming smile spreading over his face. His eyes widened, and the smile followed suit, becoming an appreciative grin. He wolf-whistled softly as he took in her appearance. Her dress was deceptively demure, auburn-haired Megan rarely wore anything too exotic; but the gold velvet mini-dress with its scooped neck and long sleeves made her resemble a warm, flame-topped candle.

"Wow, you look like a million dollars!" he said. He set down the ornament he had been holding, and advanced on Megan, extending his hands. "Happy birthday, Baby!"

"Thank you!" She dimpled happily, and lifted her face for his kiss. "You look pretty nice yourself! I love that suede coat your mom gave you for your birthday."

"You'll be the best-looking couple at the restaurant," Mrs. Wright told them, smiling.

"And we'd better be going, or we'll be the _late_ best-looking couple there," Frank said. "Get your coat, honey, and we'll be off."

#####

"Now I know why Vanessa and Joe have raved so much about this place!" Megan marveled as she looked about her surroundings. "How can the owners make any money; they surely must spend all the profits on décor!"

"I don't know." Frank was fascinated too. He and Megan had chosen the Arabian Nights-themed section of the popular restaurant for this special dinner, and the opulent splendor of the room was nearly overwhelming. If the usual glitter and glitz wasn't enough, somehow the decorators had managed to incorporate Christmas-y touches too, adding to the festive atmosphere. Holly-festooned scimitars made for an interesting combination, Frank noted to himself. "You look absolutely beautiful," he added, gazing across the table at his girlfriend. Indeed, Megan looked as if she had dressed to fit in with the glowing, golden warmth, and Frank was again reminded of a flaming candle.

She smiled, her long-lashed turquoise eyes glowing with happiness. "It's because of the candlelight," she murmured. "Every woman looks better in candlelight."

"I don't want explanations about why, I just want to sit and admire." Frank extended his hand across the table; when Megan put hers into it, he pulled it back and pressed his lips against her fingers. "Birthday girl," he whispered. "Maybe that's why you're glowing – because it's your birthday."

"Caught up with you again!" she teased. "You're only older than me for not quite a month!"

"A month's enough; I still have seniority," he informed her, his dark eyes glinting teasingly.

The arrival of their waiter interrupted the banter, and they were soon perusing their menus and making choices for dinner.

#####

"That was absolutely the best dinner I have ever had!" Megan had been saying the same thing in different words all the way back to her house. "And I want to go there again – and again!" She sighed happily as Frank parked his car in the Wrights' driveway.

"Give me a few weeks to save up for it!" Frank begged, with a wry chuckle. "Now I know how they make a profit, after all. Joe warned me it was spendy, but…"

"Frank – it was expensive." Some of the delight faded from Megan's piquant face, and her tone was suddenly laced with worry. "I didn't mean to make it sound like I expected you to take me there all the time. We don't have to go there again, you know. I'm perfectly happy with hamburgers or pizza."

"Baby, I can't take you there every week, but we'll go again. Don't worry." Frank turned off the car's engine and leaned over to enclose her in his arms. "It wasn't too expensive for my birthday girl, and I wouldn't have had your dinner anywhere else! Now hush up about finances, accountant's daughter, and concentrate on me." Before Megan could respond, he had covered her mouth with his own, effectively cutting off any chance of a reply.

"Mmm…let's go inside," she murmured, when allowed to come up for air. "Mom's probably gone to bed, and if she hasn't, she'll tactfully make herself scarce."

The two went into the house. Megan was right: Carolyn had evidently retired for the night, but had left a few dim lights and the Christmas lights on; brilliant white lights sparkled from the tree, and lighted garlands twined around the doorways and across the fireplace mantel. Megan hung up her coat, Frank unbuttoned his jacket, and they went into the family room, settling down on the couch. A low fire crackled softly in front of them, adding its dancing lights.

"Mmmm…you're awfully cuddly in this dress," Frank whispered, smoothing the soft nap of Megan's velvet dress with a gentle hand. "You feel like a baby kitten – a very sophisticated baby kitten…." He pulled her against him. "I'm an animal lover, you know – c'mere, kitty…."

For an extended period of time, the two continued the activity they'd begun in the car. Wrapped in each others' arms, their kisses increased in intensity, becoming longer and longer, deeper and deeper; until breathing began to be an occasional luxury, instead of a commonplace activity. Finally, Megan moved her hand from around Frank's neck, and pressed his cheek firmly enough to dislodge his mouth from hers.

"Give me – a chance to – breathe, darling!" she gasped, and tilted her head back, panting for air.

Reluctantly, he obeyed, and found he was a little oxygen-deprived himself. "Sorry….I guess it wouldn't be…very nice…if I made you pass out, huh?" Catching his breath, he bent his head and began kissing her neck instead, letting his lips rest on the hollow of her throat a long moment. He could feel her pulse beating rapidly beneath his lips. "Megan…baby….love you…so much…."

"And I love you – but, Frank—" Megan laughed softly, "this isn't going any further right now, not with my mother just down the hall, and probably not asleep! So cool it a little, darling, please?" She wriggled backwards the least bit, putting a fractional distance between them.

"And people say I'm sensible!" he groaned. Disappointed and somewhat frustrated, but conceding she had logic on her side, Frank eased his embrace slightly. As he did so, he felt a small, hard shape in his coat pocket. _Megan's present! I nearly forgot to give her her birthday present!_

"Baby, close your eyes—" Frank leaned back and reached into his pocket, smiling at her questioning look. "Go on, shut 'em."

After one sparkling glance, she obediently let her lashes droop downward. The effect was so irresistibly enchanting, Frank was nearly distracted into forgetting the birthday present again. He dropped it into his lap, and began to sprinkle light kisses across her face.

"Are my eyes shut just so you can kiss me?" Megan inquired, after a moment or two, laughing. "Can I open them yet?"

"Nope – hang on!" Recalled to his purpose, Frank again picked up the tiny jeweler's box adorned with a golden bow, and held it cupped in one hand, directly in front of Megan. "Okay – now open."

She complied. Her gaze fell on the little box, and her azure eyes widened in awe. Slowly, she extended her hand to receive it, and Frank placed it on her palm, closing her fingers around it.

 _A little box like that…come on, be sensible, Megan, it could easily be earrings, or a necklace….But it could be – oh, it really could be…surely he wouldn't have…_ _would_ _he? Could he?_ _Did_ _he?_

Seeing the amazement – and slight apprehension – in her eyes, Frank hastily began to speak.

"Megan, love – it's not…it's not a diamond. Not yet. I wish it was, but…but…it's not. But maybe…maybe you could…could consider it the first step in that direction. If you want to, I mean. And – maybe – you could wear it on your left hand – until I can replace it with something better…more permanent." He broke off, suddenly fearful of her reaction to his gift.

Carefully, she removed the bow, and with fingers that trembled slightly, pushed at the clasp which held the box closed. Slowly, she raised the hinged lid, and stared at the contents.

A gold band glinted in the firelight. A gold band surmounted by a heart-shaped turquoise-blue jewel in a pronged setting. On either side, a tiny diamond accented the central blue stone.

"Happy December birthday, Baby," Frank whispered. "I looked and looked, until I found the darkest blue topaz I could – I tried to match your eyes. It's an impossibility, but – I tried!"

"Ohhhh…." Megan's voice was nothing more than a breath of sound. "Oh, it's absolutely beautiful. It's – oh, Frank, it's so lovely…it's the most beautiful birthstone ring I've ever seen!" Tenderly, she extricated the ring from the box, and held it up to admire it, caressing the shimmering facets with gentle fingers. "It's wonderful!"

"And you'll wear it – as I asked you to?" Frank felt as if he were choking, when he voiced the question. _What if she says no?_

Glorious, luminous blue-green eyes met his. "I will be honored, Frank – to wear it – until you replace it. And then I'll switch it to my other hand." Megan's radiant sunburst smile, complete with dimple, spread across her face, and she carefully slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. "Look – it fits perfectly…."

Frank covered her right hand with his own, helping her to slide the ring into place. When it was securely on, he lifted her hand to his lips for a long moment, and when he finally spoke again, his voice trembled.

"Happy birthday, Baby."

Sighing deeply, Megan extricated her hand from Frank's, only to put both arms about his neck and hug him tightly. "Thank you – so much. You're so incredibly wonderful – and thoughtful," she whispered in a choked tone. "I can't believe you've given me this beautiful ring – and asked me…can't believe you really—"

"I love you, and I want everyone in the world to know it," Frank interrupted her. He kissed her lingeringly, then cuddled her close in his arms. "You're mine, Megan Wright, mine, all mine!" He growled the last few words softly.

"And there's no one else's I'd rather be," she answered softly. "Being yours is better than being anyone else's in the whole world – and what I want more than anything." She settled against him with a happy little sigh. "Did your parents know about this present – or Joe?" she asked then, with her usual whimsical practicality, spreading her hand out on her lap for them both to admire.

"Nope – not even Joe, not this time." Frank smiled, playing with her fingers and watching the firelight dance over the sparkling gemstones. "He was commiserating with you for being a Christmas baby, and only getting one set of presents."

"Christmas is two weeks away, and I get plenty of presents," she replied, smiling impishly. "But this one's the best one ever." She chuckled, that soft ripple of sound that had entranced Frank from the first day he'd known her. "I can't wait for Mom to see this, tomorrow morning!"

"She won't…mind?" Frank suddenly felt a pang of apprehension. Carolyn Wright liked him, he knew, but how might she feel about this sudden leap from 'girlfriend/boyfriend' to a deeper commitment? "I mean – what if she thinks you shouldn't have—"

Megan silenced him effectively, and by the time the kiss ended, Frank had forgotten just exactly what it was he'd been worried about!

#####

"Frank?" Morning sunlight and his brother's voice combined to rudely interrupt Frank's extremely pleasant dreams. "It's after nine, and you need to get up. You've got a final at eleven."

"Mmmmm…." Frank buried his face in his pillow, attempting to block out the intrusion.

"What time did you get home, anyway?" Joe persisted with a devilish grin. "I thought Vanessa and I held the record for late nights, but something tells me we have some competition!"

"'bout three…I think." Frank squinted, then opened his eyes a little more. "I didn't check the clock." Yielding to the inevitable, he sat up, yawning and stretching.

"Did Megan enjoy her birthday dinner?"

"Oh, I think she did, yeah."

Joe didn't miss Frank's reminiscent and somewhat goofy expression. "Uh – could I ask you something?"

"What?" Frank cast a suspicious glance at his brother's deceptively innocent countenance.

"What you – _ahem_ – gave her for her birthday – and was it that that made you so late getting home?"

Frank turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, blushing from the roots of his hair down. "JOE!"

"Yes?" Joe smiled sweetly, and waited for the answer to his question.

"We didn't – didn't do anything – I mean, nothing you and Van haven't done – I mean—" Frank, his face still crimson, jumped out of bed and made a headlong dash into the bathroom. "I've gotta take a shower; I'll be late for my exam. Don't have time to talk now!"

###

 _It's a lucky thing I knew this stuff backwards and forwards_ , Frank thought, a few hours later, as he walked out of the classroom. _I've never taken a final in my sleep before!_ Still, he felt fairly confident that he'd done all right. He'd known the answers to the questions; the only difficulty he'd had was organizing his thoughts into a coherent form, when all he really wanted to do was think about Megan, and the blue topaz ring which sparkled on her hand.

"How'd it go?" Unexpectedly, a familiar voice broke into his thoughts, as an equally unexpected hand tucked itself into the crook of his arm.

"Baby! What are you doing here? You didn't have a final today, did you?" Frank stared down at Megan in incredulous delight. "I thought you were off today!"

"I was – I am," she smiled happily up at him. "I just came over to see you, that's all."

Frank felt warmth flood through him. "You're nuts to drive clear over here just for that," he murmured, "and I love you for it. As for the test…well, I think it went okay. But it was hard to concentrate, because I kept thinking about you, instead!" He looked quickly at her left hand, wanting to reassure himself that the prior evening had really happened.

She caught the glance, and held her hand up where he could see it. "Yes, I'm wearing it!"

"Did your mom see it?"

Megan nodded. "You bet she did! I couldn't wait to show her!"

"And…?" Despite his attempt at nonchalance, Frank's tone betrayed his nervousness about Carolyn's reaction.

"She was surprised – and then she laughed, and hugged me, and then cried," Megan reported. She smiled at Frank reassuringly. "She's delighted, Frank – really!"

"Whew!" Frank heaved a deep, relieved sigh. "I'm glad of that!"

"And your family…?" Megan inquired lightly.

"I haven't said anything yet," he admitted. "Baby – would you – maybe – come home with me now, and we can show your ring off? I don't think Dad's home, but Mom…."

Her splendid turquoise eyes were very soft. "I can't think of anything I'd be happier to do."

###

Joe and Laura were both home, when Frank and Megan – arriving in separate cars, but now with hands tightly clasped – entered the Hardy house. Joe, who was again sprawled on the family room couch with a textbook balanced on his stomach, waved his hand lazily in greeting and then returned to his studying. He had a final late that afternoon, and he'd decided that a little last-minute cramming never hurt. Frank smothered a grin and bit back a wisecrack. He'd never seen Joe hit the books like this before!

Laura was in the kitchen, poring over a number of recipe cards laid out on the counter, frowning in concentration and mumbling to herself as she jotted notes on what was evidently a shopping list.

"Cream…pecans….Mmmm, do I have enough peanut butter?" She looked up and smiled a welcome. "Hello, you two! Frank, how did the test go?"

"Okay, I think," he replied. "You're getting ready to make Christmas goodies, aren't you?" he added, hopefully. "Make lots!"

"Oh, I'm sure there will be plenty," Laura assured him. "How are you, Megan? Did you have a nice birthday?"

"Very nice," the girl smiled. "In fact – that's one reason I came over. I wanted to show you one of my presents. The one Frank gave me." With a slightly nervous glance at Frank, Megan pulled her left hand from his tight grip, and extended it towards Laura.

Mrs. Hardy's eyebrows lifted, and she appeared a little surprised, but after a long look at the sparkling blue ring, she smiled at them both.

"Megan, this is a very lovely ring! It's your birthstone, isn't it? Or does it signify something else….?"

"Yes, but – no! Well, yes…I mean – not exactly!" Frank blurted before Megan could reply. "It's her birthstone – but it's more than that – more than just a piece of jewelry. I mean…" _Jeez, Hardy, could you get any_ _more_ _flustered?_

"Engaged-to-be-engaged?" Laura suggested, taking Megan's hand in hers and examining the ring closely, her eyes twinkling at Frank's discomfiture. "If you chose this, you did a nice job, honey."

"Yes." Relieved that his mother seemed to be taking this calmly, Frank began to smile too. "That's exactly what it is!"

"Laura – is it all right?" Megan asked hesitantly. "I mean – you don't mind? And how will Mr. Hardy feel?"

"Mind?" Laura put her arms about the little redhead and hugged her tightly. "Megan, Fenton and I have been expecting something like this for quite a while now, since August, anyway – and no, we don't mind! We love you, honey!"

"What's all this about engagements?" Joe appeared in the kitchen doorway, his blue eyes alight with avid curiosity. He took in the scene with incredulous delight. "Frank, you sneaky devil! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure she'd like it," Frank confessed. "And we're not engaged, exactly—"

"Not quite engaged," Megan emphasized, laughing. She held out her be-ringed hand towards Joe. "It's not a diamond, see? It's just a step in that direction…a birthstone…." Suddenly a little nervous, she bit her lip. "It's okay with you…isn't it?"

"Okay with me? Are you kidding? Red, I couldn't be happier; welcome to the Hardy family!" Apparently ignoring the 'not _quite_ engaged' qualifier, Joe seized Megan in his arms and lifted her off her feet with his energetic embrace. "About time you climbed down off the fence and committed yourself!" he teased his older brother. Setting Megan down, he slapped palms with Frank, then pulled him into a hug. "Wait'll I tell Vanessa!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to Max2013, Cherylann and Sarai for reviewing Chapter 1.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 2

TWO WEEKS LATER

"Listen up, everybody!" Fenton Hardy came out of his study late in the morning the day after Christmas Day, a broad smile on his face. "I've got some news!"

"What is it?" Joe, seated at the kitchen table, looked up from his sleepy perusal of the _Bayport Gazette's_ pages. As he caught sight of his father's animated face, Joe arched an eyebrow inquisitively. "Whatever it is, it must be good!"

Laura, also sitting at the table and glancing through the newspaper, smiled at her husband. "Do we need to get Frank here too?"

"Yep!" he replied, and pivoted around to go into the hallway. "FRANK!" he thundered, "Frank!"

"Coming!" came a faint reply from upstairs, followed shortly by the thud of feet on the steps, and then Frank himself appeared in the kitchen, looking flurried.

"What is it? Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Fenton assured his elder son. "But I have something I want you all to hear. Or rather, to ask." He sat down, then paused, impressively. "How would you like to spend the next ten days in Hawaii?"

If Fenton had dropped a small bomb in the kitchen, the reactions of his listeners might have been similar, although a bomb would have been slightly more damaging to the furnishings. His wife stared at him, shocked into silence, her blue eyes wide. Frank gasped "What? How? All of us?" and Joe crowed "ALL _RIIIIIIIGHT_ _!"_

"Laura – honey, talk to me," Fenton chuckled, reaching for her hand.

"Ha-Hawaii?" she whispered, in disbelief. "But…how?"

"I just got off the telephone with the Hawaii State Police commissioner. They are putting on a seminar on security measures over the Christmas holidays, on the Big Island of Hawaii. They'd asked me to do a major part of the presentation, several months ago, but I turned them down. I had too much going on here, and I didn't want to be away at Christmastime, anyway. So they got someone else – and now, at the last minute, the guy's come down with appendicitis."

"Ouch!" Laura murmured sympathetically. "Poor man!"

"The HSP is in desperate straits," Fenton continued. "And they're practically on their knees begging me to come and teach the thing. They're offering a very substantial remuneration…"

"But—" Joe started to protest, "but you still didn't want to be away—"

Fenton held up a finger. "Listen! They also said I could bring along staff – assistants, whoever. They're paying all the expenses – first-class airfares, hotel accommodations, the works – for as many people as I care to bring. That's how desperate they are! Besides, it's after Christmas now."

"Assistants—" Frank's mind was seizing on the possibilities. "Joe and I – we could be your assistants."

Fenton's brown eyes twinkled. "Think you could handle the job?" he teased.

"But I—" Laura still looked hesitant. "I don't have that excuse," she said regretfully.

"You, darling, are included in the invitation without having to be a detective," her husband informed her. "And you don't have to attend the seminar. All you have to do is come along and enjoy yourself. Sun, surf, sand…doesn't it sound nice?" He glanced out the kitchen window at the sub-freezing fog swirling about the house.

Joe was chewing his lip, obviously torn. "Gee, Dad…it sounds great – but – but…"

The twinkle in Fenton's eyes became even more pronounced. "You weren't listening, were you?" he said. "I can bring a whole staff along. Including pretty young female note-takers, coffee-pourers, gofers – or perhaps a skilled graphic arts designer, or computer expert. Either of you know anyone who might fill the bill?"

"Dad, do you mean it?" The smile on Frank's face matched his father's. "Could we take Megan and Vanessa?"

"If they can go," Fenton nodded.

"WHOO-HOO!" Joe's fervent yell bounced off the kitchen walls. "Wait'll I tell Van!" He leaped from his chair and grabbed for the telephone.

"Wait just a second, Joe," Laura cautioned. "Fenton, when do we leave and come back?"

"Leave day after tomorrow, return on January 6th," Mr. Hardy said. "That gives us some play time after the symposium ends."

"Day after – day after tomorrow? I don't know if I can – get ready that fast!" Laura gasped. "And there's things to be arranged – the newspaper deliveries, the Christmas tree and decorations…plants, clothes – and—"

"We can work out the details," her husband assured her. "Just say yes or no, honey."

"Well…YES!" she cried, and hugged him tightly.

"I think it's a good thing Jack and April decided to take a few days off over Christmas," Frank murmured distractedly. "I hope they don't need Joe and me…."

Joe had resumed his dialing, and now walked out of the kitchen with the cordless phone clamped to his ear. "Vanessa? Babe, it's me!"

The Christmas break had not been kind to Vanessa so far. She had started coming down with a severe cold at the beginning of finals week – and by the time her vacation began, she had been so sick she could barely get out of bed. By the 23rd of December, the cold had progressed to the coughing stage, and had stuck there. Joe hadn't been able to see her for over a week, first because she was contagious, then because she was too miserable. And even talking on the phone had been limited, because she tired so quickly.

" _What is it?"_ Vanessa rasped, now. _"Joe, I can't talk very long…I start to cough when I talk too much…"_

"Babe, don't talk, just listen. What would you think if I told you you could spend ten days on a tropical island, soaking up the nice, warm sun, resting – maybe a little graphics work, just to keep your hand in – getting over that nasty cold?"

There was a long silence from the other end of the connection. Finally, Vanessa wearily replied: _"What are you talking about?"_

"Dad's been asked to do a conference in Hawaii, and we all can go along – you and Megan, too!"

Another long silence, broken by a few hacking coughs, then: _"If you're kidding me, Joe Hardy – if this is some kind of a joke – I'll never, ever forgive you!"_ Vanessa threatened. She sounded as if she was going to cry.

"Babe! It's no joke! I'll let you talk to Mom, if you don't believe me! Van, don't cry, honey, please!" Joe pleaded. "It's for real, honest!" Quickly, he outlined the program Fenton had explained. "And it would be just perfect for you, babe – when Dad doesn't need you to work, you can just lie in the sun and rest…drink lots of fruit juice, with all that Vitamin C….You and Megan can keep each other company – shop, hang around on the beach and work on your tans, whatever – if Frank and I have to do stuff, and the rest of the time we can just…play."

" _It sounds wonderful,"_ she admitted hoarsely. _"Let me talk to your mother, though. And then I'll have to check with Mom."_

Joe searched the house and found Laura rummaging through bureau drawers in her bedroom. He handed the telephone over to her, and went into his own room. He could hear Frank in conversation with someone, on his cell phone.

Frank had tried to call Megan, but no one was home at the Wright residence, and her cell phone went to voice mail. He thought for a few moments, then was hit with an inspiration. He knew his girlfriend well – knew that once she heard what was being proposed, she would immediately start thinking of reasons she _couldn't_ go…not because she didn't wish to go, but because she wouldn't believe she _should_ go!

 _Darned Puritan work ethic! This time, baby, I'm going to counter all your reasons before you can start coming up with them!_ He grinned as he leafed through the telephone book, seeking a number he rarely called.

" _Bayport Electric, Human Resources Department."_

"Mrs. Wright, please," Frank requested, and waited, smiling.

" _This is Carolyn Wright."_

"Mrs. Wright? Hi, it's Frank. I wanted to talk to you about something my dad just suggested…"

Megan's mother was astounded by the amazing proposal, but once Frank convinced her of the veracity of his words, she was delighted by the prospect of Megan getting a chance for a Hawaiian vacation.

" _Frank, are you absolutely sure of this? I mean, you all just took her to Lake Tahoe with you in August, and we're not talking a trip to the zoo here; this is expensive—"_

"But it's all being paid for by the Hawaii State Police!" Frank reminded her. "Dad's been given free rein to bring as much support staff as he needs, and he's the one who suggested that we ask Vanessa and Megan to come along. And really, they'll both work while they're there; so will Joe and I! He really can use us…and them. And besides – we want her to come. I want her to come," Frank finished quietly, but there was a great deal of yearning in his tone.

" _I doubt that pouring coffee and fetching in doughnuts and muffins, or making name tags, constitutes very hard work!"_ Carolyn Wright said dryly, but she was laughing. _"All right, Frank; it's fine with me. I can manage to get along without her here at home for that length of time. I'm getting more and more used to it! And believe me, Megan will be thrilled."_

"I tried calling her – she isn't home—" Frank paused.

" _She went shopping,"_ Mrs. Wright informed him. _"Those day-after-Christmas sales, you know! She said she would probably be home by lunchtime. Give her another hour or so, Frank, and then call her again."_ She laughed. _"It's too bad you didn't catch her earlier; she could be shopping for vacation clothes! Not that there would be anything like that in the stores here, in the dead of winter!"_

Thanking her for her warm acceptance of this abrupt scheme, Frank hung up the phone. He decided it might be a good thing to drag out a suitcase, and begin to pack while he waited to contact Megan.

An hour later, his suitcase nearly filled, Frank tried Megan's number again, and this time she answered.

"Baby, are you sitting down?" he asked, after hearing her initial 'hello.'

" _Ahhhh…no, I just walked in the door and picked up the phone,"_ his girlfriend responded warily. _"Why?"_

"Because I think you ought to sit down," Frank continued, grinning.

He heard some soft shufflings and rustlings, then Megan said, _"All right, I'm sitting down. What is it? Has something happened?"_ The wariness was turning to apprehension.

"No – and yes. What would you say if I told you we could spend a week and a half in Hawaii – all expenses paid?"

" _I'd ask you what you'd been smoking,"_ she said bluntly. _"And then I'd check your temperature – or start wondering what the punch line to the joke was."_

"'Oh, ye of little faith'!" he reprimanded her, chuckling. "Baby, the greatest thing happened this morning – just listen!" And he proceeded to tell her of the offer his father had received, and how she was to be included in this sudden trip.

As he had expected, after the first gasps of astonishment, Megan began coming up with arguments and problems _. "But – I can't just up and leave Mom to go junketing off to Hawaii…she'd be lonesome…."_

"I've already talked to your mother," Frank crowed in triumph. "She's all for it."

" _You – talked to Mom?"_ she said blankly. _"But, Frank…I don't want to intrude. This is a special trip for your_ _family_ _."_

Frank stayed quiet for a moment before answering, to put emphasis on his words. "Family, huh….Baby – what are you wearing on your left hand?"

" _I – oh…."_ He heard her gulp.

"Megan – honey…believe me, Dad suggested that Joe and I ask you and Vanessa. He really can use you, and he wanted you two to come along. Mom does too. You guys are family – or close to it!"

" _Vacation clothes…?"_ he heard her whisper, in a last-ditch attempt.

"Pack what you took to Lake Tahoe. That's what I did. After all, I didn't get to wear half of what I took there!"

" _It sounds…absolutely, incredibly marvelous,"_ she admitted, finally bowing to the inevitable. _"I want to go, very much. When do we leave?"_

"Early-early morning, day after tomorrow."

" _DAY AFTER TOMORROW!"_ The shriek tore at Frank's left eardrum. _"My God, Frank,_ _one __day's_ _warning? I've got a jillion things to do! Call me later!"_ A crash of the receiver being slammed into its cradle assaulted the same ear, and Frank jerked his phone away from his head. He dropped it on the table and roared with laughter.

#####

Early-early morning it certainly was! The Hardys, Megan and Vanessa boarded their jetliner at seven a.m., as an incipient snowstorm was whipping the wind chill drastically downward.

"We're getting out of town just in time!" Joe observed, looking out at the gloomy morning, where snow-laden clouds scudded across the sky. Seven o'clock in the morning was dark in December, at least in bad weather.

"And I'm so glad!" Vanessa murmured. "I want warmth and sunshine so bad!"

It felt strange to be boarding the plane ahead of the regular crowd, and to be ushered with due ceremony to the First Class section, where they located their seats and sat down, marveling at the luxury.

"This is sooooo nice!" Megan wriggled into her seat with delight.

Joe checked his ticket, then offered to let Vanessa change places with him, allowing her to sit next to Megan, while he and Frank flanked them on either side. "I never want to travel coach again!" he declared, plopping into the soft plush. "Look! Footrests!" Gleefully, he stretched out, propping his feet up. "Frank, these were made for people our height!"

From across the aisle, his father chuckled. "Don't get too used to it," he warned. "Private investigators don't usually travel first class."

Vanessa sighed deeply and leaned back, appreciating the leg room as much as either of the boys. A blissful smile crossed her face, and she closed her eyes. "Wake me when we land in Los Angeles," she murmured.

"Babe, you won't want to sleep the whole way," Joe reminded her. "They serve nicer stuff to eat in first class, and free drinks, and free movies—"

"Shhh, I'm asleep," she replied without opening her eyes. "And if you knew how much cough syrup I've swallowed recently, you'd know trying to keep me awake is a lost cause. Wake me when they serve something good to eat, though."

Joe laughed, and patted her fondly. "Okay, babe, okay. You just rest."

Vanessa wasn't the only one to fall asleep. The early hour, the quiet comfort of the first class section, and the relaxation which stemmed from realizing that they were, indeed, on their way, caused them all to doze off soon after takeoff. Fenton managed to stay awake the longest, but even he eventually succumbed.

Before closing his eyes, he glanced over at the younger members of the party. Vanessa was sound asleep, her hand curled into Joe's. Joe's eyes were shut, and the watching Fenton saw him yawn widely and then snuggle into a pillow, evidently settling in for a long nap. Megan and Frank had reclined their seats and dropped the arm rest between them; her head nestled cozily against his shoulder, and his cheek rested atop her curls. They both appeared to be deep in dreamland. Looking to his right, Fenton saw his wife had put down the magazine she had been glancing through, and closed her eyes, too.

Smiling, he followed suit.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thanks to those who have reviewed the last chapter!

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 3

The Hardy party changed planes in Los Angeles, after a flight of over seven hours. They were scheduled for a short layover at LAX; not enough time to leave the airport, but plenty of time to stretch, get something to eat, and briefly relax before boarding their jet for the next part of the journey.

It seemed very strange to the Bayporters to look out of the airport windows and see sunshine, palm trees, and abundant flowers, after leaving the frigid conditions on the east coast. Laura commented on this fact, adding, "I guess it's a good introduction to Hawaii. It makes it less of a shock, with it being like this in California, too."

Vanessa happily announced that she had slept more deeply on the plane than she had at home in a week, and she looked much more energized. She and Joe decided to spend some time exploring the various little stores in the airport. For once, no one – not even Joe – was very hungry; the meals and snacks in First Class had filled them up!

"Want to walk too, Baby?" Frank wrapped one of Megan's red-gold curls about his forefinger and tugged lightly.

"No, not really," she confessed. "I've got a magazine to read. But you go ahead; I know you want to stretch your legs. I'll watch your carryon."

"Frank, there's a bookstore down this way." Laura smiled invitingly at her elder son. "Want to go with me?"

"Sure, Mom..." But Frank hesitated, not wishing to leave Megan by herself. "Dad...?"

"Megan and I will keep an eye on the luggage," Fenton replied, settling into a seat across from the little redhead. "Go on, enjoy yourselves. Be aware of the time, though; we've only got about an hour before they should start boarding."

Once Frank and Laura had departed, Megan glanced up from her magazine. She met Mr. Hardy's gaze and smiled tentatively. She hadn't spent much time in Frank's father's presence lately, not one-on-one...not since Frank had given her the ring; and she felt her old intimidating shyness surfacing again. "Umm, Mr. Hardy...have I mentioned yet how very much I appreciate you inviting me along? It was really kind of you."

"We're glad to have you along," he said, setting aside the notebook he'd been leafing through. "After all, you're practically one of the family now."

She gulped. Fenton Hardy certainly had a way of cutting directly to the point. "I...is that...Mr. Hardy, you don't...I mean..."

"Stop right there." Fenton raised one finger peremptorily.

Megan halted mid-sentence, her azure eyes wide. What had she done wrong?

But Fenton was leaning forward, his dark eyes nearly as warm and affectionate as Frank's. "You just made me remember something I've been meaning to talk to you about," he said. "You're calling me 'Mr. Hardy' again."

"But – that's who you are..." she faltered. What was she _supposed_ to call him? When she and Frank spoke of their parents, it was always 'your mom,' or 'your dad.'

"Megan, dear girl..." Mr. Hardy paused, and smiled reassuringly. "Don't you think – in light of that ring you're wearing now – that you might want to be a little less formal with me? You call Laura 'Laura,' after all."

Blushes colored Megan's face pink from hairline to coat collar. "I didn't want to presume," she whispered.

"You aren't presuming," the detective told her. "I don't want to be 'Mr. Hardy,' to you. Look, I understand that calling me 'Dad' might be a little much," he went on, "especially since you lost your father so recently. I wouldn't expect you to. Although I wouldn't mind if you did," he hastened to add. "But do you suppose you might manage 'Fenton?' Or—" he chuckled, "something else? 'Daddy,' for instance? Or how about 'Pops?' "

Megan laughed at the idiocy of calling Fenton Hardy 'Pops,' then blinked hard, fighting back a sudden rush of tears. Had Frank's father _really_ just asked her to call him by his first name, or a pet nickname? It seemed almost unbelievable! "I...could try...F-Fenton."

"Attagirl." He extended his arm and leaned across the space between them, inviting her into his embrace. "Welcome to the family, honey."

#####

The flight over the Pacific Ocean was serene. Now dreamy island music was played over the sound system, and the food served for lunch featured "tropical" selections. They had been charmed to find that "real" dishes and silverware were used in their section, at breakfast, and lunch did not disappoint. Vanessa prudently swallowed another dose of cough syrup to insure that the second leg of their flight went as peacefully as the first.

"I'm beginning to agree with Joe," Mrs. Hardy said to her husband as they ate. "I could get used to traveling this way!"

He grinned. "It is pretty nice, isn't it?" He glanced across the aisle at the kids. "They're just lapping all this up," he chuckled. "I don't know when I've seen them all look so – contented. Even Vanessa sounds healthier!"

Laura nodded. "I talked with Andrea before we left – she assured me that really, Vanessa is just fine; the only thing left of that cold is the cough. But Joe is treating her like easily-shattered crystal, and…" she laughed softly, "I think he should be encouraged. She could stand a little pampering."

"You're downright sneaky," Fenton said…and gave his wife a conspiratorial grin.

#####

They disembarked in Honolulu, intending to catch one of the island shuttle planes over to Hilo; although they had been traveling for over a dozen hours, it was only mid-afternoon when they landed at the lovely Honolulu airport. And since everyone had managed at least one nap during the journey, it was an energetic and smiling group from Bayport who walked through the open-air terminal to the Island Air departure gates.

"It's so warm!" Megan exulted, tugging off her coat and draping it over her arm. "And it smells so good!" She inhaled the sweet fragrance of plumaria blossoms blissfully as they passed a flower-laden tree growing near the walkway.

"I wonder how long I could live here before I got tired of it?" Vanessa mused quietly. "Decades, at least!"

"Is anyone meeting us at Hilo?" Mrs. Hardy asked her husband, as they strolled along. "Or do we just contact them after we get to the hotel?"

"We're supposed to be met at the Hilo airport," Fenton assured her. "A greeting complete with leis and kisses," he added, smiling.

The Hardys had been to Hawaii before, but neither of the girls had ever traveled to the Islands, and they were entranced with the things they saw, smelled and heard. They spent the hop over to the Big Island in the small jet with their faces nearly plastered to the windows, trying to see everything possible.

"Look at the windsurfers!" Megan marveled, watching the brightly-colored sails far below. "And – and some people on regular surfboards!"

"That's what I want to do!" Joe declared. "Surf – parasail – scuba dive…" He stroked Vanessa's hair gently. "What about you, Beautiful? What do you want to do?"

She was silent a moment. "I want to visit the home of Pelè," she whispered. "Kilauea."

"The volcano?"

She nodded dreamily. "Yes!"

"Well, we'll be on the right island for it," Frank conceded. "Sounds like a good idea to me!"

"We ought to pick up a book on Pelè, don't you think, before we visit Kilauea," Megan suggested to Vanessa, who nodded agreement. She continued to look down through the scratched plastic of the airplane window, gazing in delight at the bright colors, the beautiful blues and greens of the vast Pacific Ocean below. She glanced up as Fenton spoke, calling to their attention the smoke rising in the distance.

"That's from the volcano," he said. "And I understand that the volcano's the reason some of the beaches in the Islands are black sand."

"What's black sand like?" Megan inquired. "You've all been here before, after all," she added, smiling at each of the Hardys.

"It's grittier than regular sand," Frank told her. "It's coarser – almost like fine particles of rock, rather than what we think of as beach sand. Actually, a lot of the beaches in Hawaii are like that. Not black, but the sand is chunkier, and there are lots of broken shells and little pieces of coral mixed up in it. But I've swum at a black sand beach, and it's not too bad. And the water's warm. It seems odd at first, but you get used to it real fast," he chuckled. He pulled Megan into the circle of his arm as best he could in the cramped airplane seats, and dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. He picked up her hand and felt the new ring she wore. He fingered it, smiling quietly. _She's the right girl for me, all right. Beautiful. Feisty. Sweet. Sincere. And_ _mine_ _._

"What should we do first?" Vanessa asked from her seat across the narrow aisle. Leaning against the window as Megan had been, she peered downwards just as the other girl had done. "It's so incredible," she murmured admiringly, and fell silent again, mesmerized by the beauty of the blue and green waters, with the touches of whitecaps; the glint of sunlight on the waves – the views of the various islands in the distance or close up as they overflew them. _The water's so clear, you could almost imagine you could catch a glimpse of the sea life beneath, if you looked hard enough!_ She was slightly breathless – and not just from the cold she was recovering from; she felt a thousand percent better after her long naps. No, the breathlessness she was experiencing was from excitement!

"We'll have to check into the hotel first," Joe reminded her, "and get everything settled in our rooms. I bet we get to have the evening to hit the beach, though – right, Dad?"

His father laughed. "Yes, you can have the evening free to go to the beach," he allowed. "I'll pick up the symposium schedule when we get there, and go over what I'm going to need my 'assistants' to do for it. I've already got a fair idea of what I'll be doing for each of my talks…and I used some of the time during our flight from L.A. to work on slides on my laptop. We're in pretty good shape."

"How much will you need us?" Frank inquired. Sure, they were going there to be assistants, but hopefully that wouldn't take all day, every day!

"Not sure, son. But don't worry; we'll work out the schedules so that you'll have free time together occasionally. I doubt that I'll actually need you all around during the entire presentations, after all – but it might be nice to have at least one of you nearby when I'm giving a talk, to run errands that might come up. Still—" he smiled, "think of it as a vacation, for the most part. And of course, there will be all the time after the thing's over!"

Reassured, Frank hugged Megan close again, thinking of the places he'd love to go with her. _Walking along the beach…swimming in the ocean, or the pool…sitting in the hot tub, perhaps._ He grinned at his thoughts. _It's gonna be_ _great_ _!_

The small island shuttle plane finally landed on a runway at Hilo Airport on the Big Island of Hawaii, and taxied towards the terminal. After a few minutes' wait, the Jetway was extended and connected to the plane, and the passengers were allowed to exit. Grabbing their carryon bags, the group from Bayport made their way into the terminal. They paused, looking around.

"There." Joe pointed to two young Hawaiian women standing nearby, one of whom held a sign which read 'HARDY.'

"Hello, I'm Fenton Hardy," Fenton said as he approached them.

" _Aloha_." One of the young women stepped forward, smiling. Several flower leis were hung on her arm. "And welcome to Hawai'i." She gave the island name a slightly different pronunciation, they noticed – a little hitch in the last part which seemed to break it into two syllables. She detached one of the floral wreaths and placed it about Mr. Hardy's neck, tiptoeing to kiss him on the cheek. "I am Kami; this is my sister, Mela. We have been asked to greet you and bring you to your hotel."

Mela, also carrying leis, approached Frank and duplicated her sister's actions, smilingly placing the flowers about his neck and kissing his cheek. " _Aloha_ ," she said, and then moved to Megan. The little redhead's face was glowing with delight as she received the traditional island welcome. Mela finished presenting Laura's flowers, and then did Joe's, while Kami, laughing, waited for Vanessa to bend her knees and duck her head.

"You're very tall!" Kami giggled. Vanessa nodded in agreement.

"If you will come with us," Mela said then, "we will get your bags and take you to the hotel."

The Hardys followed the two native girls through the terminal. It was a beautiful building, obviously built to appeal to any visitors who came to the island. After recovering their suitcases, they walked outside and found a large white limousine waiting for them. Mela opened one of the doors and held it, waiting for the Hardy party to climb inside.

Megan's eyes sparkled with delight. "A limo!" she whispered in Frank's ear. He grinned down at her, and gave her a tiny wink.

"You have been put at the Hilo-Kilauea Island Resort Spa," Kami explained, once they were under way. "It is the nicest hotel in Hilo, very large, with everything you could want, including a private beach right on the ocean. It affords a marvelous view of Kilauea as well – very beautiful."

"And since that's where the symposium is being held, it couldn't be more convenient," Fenton said, grinning.

"It sounds absolutely wonderful, and I can't wait to see it!" Laura commented with a pleased smile.

After a fifteen-minute drive, Laura was granted her wish when the limo pulled up to the large resort hotel, parking in the open courtyard in the middle of the circular building. The check-in desk was outside as well, although well back underneath an overhang, in case of inclement weather.

While Fenton handled their paperwork – the way smoothed by Kami and Mela – the others looked about.

"It's so lovely here!" Megan breathed in and out, catching the scents of flowers she'd never smelled before. Everything was lush and large, green and damp and full of blossoms. She and Vanessa wandered away from the boys to look at the masses of flowers, both planted along the sidewalk in front of the hotel, and in large planters lining the front of the building. There were palm trees everywhere too, more than one variety, standing tall overhead. Their large fronds rustled in the light wind blowing in from the nearby sea. Megan inhaled sharply, and caught the scent of the ocean. "I don't ever want to leave!"

"Me either," Vanessa agreed. She was feeling so much better – she could scarcely believe it was just a few hours ago that they had boarded the jet in icy, snowy Bayport! The warmth of the air seemed to dissipate the chill in her bones which she'd felt for the last two weeks, ever since she had gotten sick. Now she felt warm and relaxed and eagerly anticipated the ten days they would be spending here. "I can't wait to go out to that beach! Look, Meg!" She pointed to the soft white sand at the end of the sidewalk, leading to the beach itself.

"Looks awfully inviting!" Frank came up behind them and tugged Megan into an encircling arm. "What do you think, baby? Want to take a walk on the beach? We might manage to have more fun this time than we did in Tahoe in August!" Their walks in Tahoe had been interrupted by a case, but he remembered fondly the few that they had managed to take together! Once again, Frank caressed the ring on Megan's finger; he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, then smiled down at her. "Mine," he whispered, very low.

"Rent a room already," Joe jeered. "Come on, let's get settled. Dad's got our key cards. The sooner we change, the sooner we swim!"

They turned to go back into the hotel, well content.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you as always to Cherylann and Max2013 for the reviews!

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 4

Joe beat a rapid _tat-a-tat_ on the hotel room door. After a moment, it opened, and Vanessa peeked out. "Vanessa, do you have ANY idea how so much of your stuff ended up in MY suitcase?" Joe's tone was a mixture of exasperation and amusement – and adoration. Even as he gently chided his girlfriend, he was scooping her up in a one-armed embrace, pulling her into the hall and planting a kiss on the corner of her mouth. "I swear, you brought enough stuff to move here! And I've been having to lug it around!"

She squealed at the semi-attack, and giggled, but pulled back slightly. "Careful, or you'll get my cold." She sniffed, demonstrating, and stifled a cough. "And if you'll remember, those things got in your suitcase because I ASKED! And you said I could!"

Joe coughed delicately in imitation, and intoned in a light falsetto: " 'Joe, could I put a couple of things in your suitcase? I'm almost done packing and I have one or two – maybe three – things I really want to bring and no room in my suitcases. Could I? Please?' " He cleared his throat and regarded Vanessa with a calm blue gaze. "We may have to send you back to kindergarten for some remedial math, babe. At last count, I found twelve – yes, I said TWELVE – 'things' in there that aren't mine – and three of 'em, I don't want anyone seeing coming out of my suitcase! I have a reputation to maintain, you know!"

Vanessa grinned, and winked at Frank, who was openly watching from their door across the hall. Megan, giggling, appeared behind her. "Oh, you poor baby," Vanessa crooned to Joe, through her laughter, "I'll rescue your big, bad, ol' macho suitcase from my stuff, and save your big, bad ol' macho reputation from being besmirched." She shoved him across the hall, toward the room he was sharing with Frank. "Come on, I want a witness here…I don't want you coming back later and saying I forgot something!"

Frank, laughing, moved out of their way, shaking his head. "Those two…."

Megan's infectious giggles rippled out as she stepped into the hallway. "I saw what she put in there, and I know for a fact that she did it on purpose, just to see what Joe would do!"

"Wish I had my camera," Frank muttered. "Some moments are just meant to be captured on film, you know? Both to share with others, and also to use as appropriate blackmail material."

"So why don't you have it?" his girlfriend inquired.

"Charging," Frank admitted.

Megan sniffed. "If you'd charged it before we left, you'd be able to use it now," she reminded him smartly – and then gasped as he swept her into his arms and bent his head to kiss her.

"I had other things on my mind," he growled, low, and tightened his clasp.

The moment was interrupted by the opening of yet another hotel room door, and the emergence of Fenton. He took in the situation at a glance, and his dark eyes twinkled knowingly, but all he said was: "Frank, could you and Megan come down to our suite – and Joe and Vanessa, too? My liaison with the Hawaiian police is supposed to be coming by to fill us in on the specifics of the seminar, and I'd like you four to meet him."

"Sure, Dad." Releasing Megan, but still holding her hand, Frank moved to poke his head into his room. "Joe – Dad wants to see us!" A moment later, Vanessa dashed out, scurried across the hallway and into the girls' room, her arms full of various items, some of which looked decidedly pastel and silky…not Joe's sorts of things at all! Frank's eyes sparkled with good-natured humor as he caught her eye, and Vanessa winked saucily at him as she darted past. A few moments later, she returned to the hallway, and annexed the crimson-cheeked Joe as he emerged from his room. They followed Frank and Megan down the soft-carpeted hall to the elder Hardys' suite.

"Hey, Mom and Dad," Joe said, settling himself comfortably onto the loveseat beside Vanessa. "Whaddya think? Is this swell, or what?" He waved his hand widely, the gesture encompassing the spacious elegance of the two-room suite.

"It's beautiful," Laura replied, smiling. "They've gone out of their way to spoil us!"

"That's because we wanted you to feel wanted and welcomed," a voice spoke from the open doorway. " _Aloha_!"

As one, the Hardys and the two girls turned to face the newcomer. They were somewhat surprised to see a tall, tanned blonde-haired man wearing Bermuda shorts, sandals and a tank top standing there. He had a badge attached to his shorts, but aside from that, he looked like a tourist – relaxed, rested, and very much off-duty. A friendly smile lighted up his undeniably attractive features.

"Come in," Fenton invited cordially. "You are…?"

"Lieutenant Dylan McCullough," the man said, extending his hand and advancing into the room. "I'm with Hawaii 5-0, and I'm your liaison to the security measures seminar, Mr. Hardy."

"Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant." Fenton shook hands, mentally sizing up the other man. Dylan McCullough was tall, taller than either Fenton or his sons, with a lean build. _He's definitely not a native Hawaiian Islander,_ Fenton thought with an inward chuckle, taking in the blue eyes and shock of sun-bleached hair.

Lieutenant McCullough seemed to know what he was thinking. "Before you ask," he grinned, "I'm originally from California, and I trained at the San Diego Police Academy. I came here on a case – oh, about ten years ago – and fell in love with the place. I decided to stay on. Normally, I work out of Honolulu, but I came over to the Big Island for the seminar, and I wanted to serve as your liaison."

"This is my wife, Laura, my sons, Frank and Joe, and my other two assistants, Megan Wright and Vanessa Bender," Fenton indicated each person as he said their names.

" _E komo mai_ ," McCullough inclined his head to Laura in a semi-bow, and took her offered hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back, blue eyes twinkling mischievously at her evident surprise. Releasing her hand, he turned to Megan and Vanessa, who exchanged nervous smiles as the handsome lieutenant greeted them in a similar fashion. " _E komo mai_ is another way to say 'welcome' in Hawaiian," he explained. "I've picked up some of the language over the years, although I doubt I'll ever be truly fluent in it! But it's a very good language for talking to beautiful women – don't you agree?"

Intrigued – and oblivious of the slightly hostile gazes Frank and Joe were bestowing on Lt. McCullough – the girls blushed, smiled, and fingered their flower leis self-consciously. They were used to receiving compliments from guys in their age bracket, but Lt. McCullough had to be in his mid-thirties, at the very least!

Laura eyed this audacious man speculatively. Her first reaction had been _Oh no, not another Cameron Jacobs!_ But the whole _'_ feel' was different, she realized. Whereas Cameron Jacobs had made her skin crawl, Dylan McCullough merely made her want to laugh – and flirt back! In fact, she could easily see _Joe_ , fifteen years down the road, being the same sort…flirt with anyone and everyone, merely for the fun of it. _And then go home at night to his wife, completely and totally faithful,_ she added, smiling to herself at the thought.

Finally, they all seated themselves on the various couches and chairs in the room, and got down to business.

"The seminar will start in the morning," Dylan began by way of explanation. "There's a sort of 'meet and greet' at eight. Most of that will just be everyone getting to know each other, or seeing people we haven't seen for awhile, and getting reacquainted. The first session is scheduled for 9:30, and lasts until noon – with a short break in the middle, of course. Do you have that much material ready, Mr. Hardy?"

"Call me Fenton, please," the detective requested. "Yes, I think I'm prepared for that. Do you have a set schedule already planned? Specific things you want me to talk about? Since I'm filling in at the last minute…."

McCullough shifted on his seat, and pulled a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of his shorts. "Here." He passed it over to Fenton, who unfolded it and scanned through the list, nodding approval as he flipped to a second sheet.

"How many people are you expecting?" he asked, then.

"About 200, give or take a few," the lieutenant replied. "There will be representatives from all the precincts on all the islands, hopefully. We've had to request a little help from the Mainland to make sure the streets are policed while the conference is going on, but we plan on everyone being back at work on New Year's Eve, since that's when the seminar is over – and ready to take on the strange behavior of our Islanders on that night," he finished with a laugh.

Fenton chuckled. "I think a lot of people do strange things on New Years, not just Hawaiian Islanders."

"True. Well, I'll be happy to introduce you to everyone tomorrow morning," McCullough offered. "That is, at least, everyone I know. You'll get to meet Chief Pauahi, who's heading the whole thing up. He's out of the Hilo PD, and as native an Islander as you can get."

"I've spoken with him on the phone," Fenton nodded, recognizing the name. "What's he like?"

Dylan grinned. "Big. Braw. Loud. Forceful. And a damn good cop. You'll figure that out as soon as you meet him." He got to his feet. "In the meantime, enjoy your evening. I highly recommend the restaurant in the hotel. I'll see you all tomorrow morning. _Aloha_." And with that, he was gone as abruptly as he had appeared, closing the door behind him and leaving his guests slightly bemused.

"Wow." Frank blinked. "Interesting guy!"

"Sort of abrupt, but very intriguing," Megan smiled, and reached for the schedule McCullough had left. She and Frank snuggled into the sofa, reading through it.

"It looks like your standard seminar," Fenton commented, leaning over the back of the couch to read over his son's shoulder. "Session from 9 to 12 – well, 9:30, but close enough – then another one, 1:30 to 4:30."

"Evening sessions, too—" Frank pointed them out, frowning slightly. This thing looked pretty intensive.

"But I don't have to do anything at those," his father said. "Apparently one is a statistical report from the various Hawaiian police departments, and the other is an awards ceremony. You kids don't have to plan on attending either of those, although I suspect that I ought to make an appearance at the awards ceremony, at least." He looked at his wife, smiling. "Honey, you can skip the statistics one, but the awards ceremony is a banquet; you'll probably want to go to that. No sense passing up a free fancy dinner, after all!" He looked down at the schedule again, tapping the paper thoughtfully, then glanced up at Joe. "Can you four split yourselves up so that at least two of you are always available to help me out during the two daily sessions?"

"Sure, Dad." They exchanged looks and a few comments, and swiftly decided that Frank and Megan would handle the morning sessions, while Joe and Vanessa would cover the afternoons.

"That way I can sleep in," Joe flexed his shoulders luxuriously. "Van and I can spend some of the morning on the beach, while you two have to be up and alert and efficient and professional—"

"Oh, HUSH!" Frank batted him lightly on the back of the head. "You have to be up tomorrow, remember? Eight o'clock meet-and-greet!"

###

An early dinner at the hotel's open-air restaurant was a culinary delight, as Lt. McCullough had promised. The Hardy party was also entertained by the fact that birds fluttered in and out throughout the meal, and boldly perched on empty tables, sampling the remains of customers' dinners. Vanessa, carrying a small digital camera in her purse, snapped pictures again and again of the cheeky intruders.

"Those birds better stay away from this, or I'll be forced to commit avian cruelty," Frank muttered, shielding his Chicken _Laulau_ with one hand as a small invader swooped past the table. He cut a piece of the ti-leaf-wrapped entree, and bit into it with evident pleasure. Megan and Vanessa, who had both chosen the Chicken Luau, giggled at the comment. Megan sliced off a bit of hers and mouthed _'want a bite?'_ to Frank, who nodded and obligingly exchanged some of his dinner for hers.

"You just can't get fish that tastes like this on the East Coast." Fenton shook his head ruefully, then took another bite of his freshly caught mahi-mahi with enjoyment. Laura, who had ordered the same thing, nodded agreement.

"You can smell a little smoke in the air," Joe observed. "And I don't mean from the kitchen or the cooking pit, or whatever, either. It's sort of sulfuric."

"From the volcano, maybe?" Vanessa's eyes widened.

"Probably. Don't worry, babe, it's not going to attack us; we're 50 miles away." Joe winked at her and grinned.

After dinner, which concluded with dishes of mango ice cream for dessert, Fenton and Laura indicated that they intended to spend some time in the lounge, from whence the soft strains of steel guitars and other instruments announced the presence of live music. The 'younger set' decided something a little more active was in line.

"Let's go for a walk on the beach," Megan proposed. "Remember what fun we had doing that at Lake Tahoe…before everything went kerflooey?"

"That works for me," Joe seconded, and Frank and Vanessa quickly agreed.

Hastily changing into beach attire from the slightly dressier clothing they'd worn to dinner, the four assembled once more in the hotel lobby, and set out for the water's edge. They discovered that a quaint footbridge actually connected the parking lot with a beach which evidently was also a small park, and trooped across it happily, heading for the seductively warm Pacific. The sun was still above the horizon, but barely. Soon it would sink into the blue waters, and night would descend.

"Ooooh…" Vanessa kicked her sandals off and broke into a run, straight into the serene wavelets. "It's warm…it's warm! It's – ouch! Coral!" She halted, stooping to rub her bare foot.

Immediately solicitous, Joe hurried to her side. "You okay, babe? You didn't get cut, did you?" He wrapped protective arms about her, holding her up while she inspected her foot.

"Nope, no cuts. But this stuff isn't all that pleasant to walk on, there's all sorts of sharp shells and rocks; remind me to wear beach shoes or something, after this!" Vanessa straightened up and encircled Joe's neck with her arms. "However, I like the attention very much…" She pressed her lips against his as they stood in the ankle-deep water, an occasional wave splashing as high as their knees.

"They probably want some privacy," Megan whispered to Frank, indicating the younger duo with a tilt of her head. "We could walk down the beach a little ways."

"When he's in this kind of mood, Joe wouldn't care if they were in the middle of a marching band," Frank countered, grinning. He pulled his girlfriend back against his chest, resting his cheek on top of the soft, red-gold waves and crossing his arms in front of her. "We can wait 'em out. We've got a perfect view of the sunset from here, and I'm not going to let him run me off just because he wants to chew Vanessa's lip off—"

Whatever else Frank was about to say was swallowed up in a gasp and a shout of laughter, as Vanessa – evidently not quite as caught up in the moment as Joe – slyly slid one foot behind Joe's ankle and then shoved, toppling the younger Hardy off balance and catapulting them both into the water!

"WHOA! WHATHE…! Vanessa!" Joe emitted an outraged bellow. "WHATINTHE…" He stopped yelling momentarily to spit out a mouthful of salty brine. "You…you…." He struggled to get up, only to be pulled down into the water again by the laughing Vanessa.

Megan, her infectious, bewitching laughter bubbling, backed away from the melee, pulling Frank with her. They sat down on the sand at a safe distance, and calmly watched the struggle with great enjoyment.

"It's sort of like a horrible parody of that scene in _From Here to Eternity_ , isn't it?" Frank observed, making Megan giggle even more.

Vanessa was laughing so hard she brought on a coughing attack, an occurrence which, once he realized what was happening, caused Joe to make a 180-degree turn from ire to concern. Scrambling out of the surf and dragging his girlfriend behind him, Joe held her up, patting her back soothingly until she finally stopped coughing, and was breathing normally once more.

"You," Joe pronounced then, grimly, "are a demon, Vanessa Bender! You oughta be spanked!" He ruefully began to wring the water from his clothing. "And you'd better not get sick again, from that little demonstration!" he added, trying to sound severe.

"It was fun, though," she replied. "Don't you think it was fun, Joe?" Long lashes batted over big, gray-blue eyes. "Come on, wasn't it fun…baby?" She fluttered her eyelashes again.

Joe shook his head in utter defeat. "If I didn't love you so much, I'd drown you!" he said, and pulled her close for an emphatic kiss.

"Come on, you two." Frank rose and extended a hand to Megan to pull her to her feet. "Let's get on with the walk. It's warm enough; you'll dry pretty soon." He and Megan set out down the beach once more, followed at a little distance by their damp companions. "I hope you don't have any fiendish ideas about emulating Vanessa?" he murmured in Megan's ear, twining his fingers tightly with hers. "I'd rather swim with you in the sunshine – and a swimsuit, not shorts and a t-shirt. I can do without sand in my underwear, thanks all the same."

"No intention of taking a swim tonight," she assured him. "I'd just as soon not get all wet and gloppy right now, either. Tomorrow, though – better keep an eye out, Frank, who knows what I might decide to do?!"

"Whatever you decide to do is okay by me, baby," he whispered, and brought their clasped hands up to press a brief kiss on the one which wore the blue topaz ring. "And I do mean anything." He tried his best suggestive leer. "Your mother isn't around now," he reminded her with a little nudge.

"You are bad," she murmured. "Have you been taking lessons from Joe?"

"Hey!" Frank scowled in mock outrage. "I do not need to take lessons from Joe, you hear me? I'm perfectly capable of being bad all on my own!"

"Right," Megan scoffed. "Big, bad Frank Hardy, the Scourge of...of...something-or-other," she ended lamely. With innate tact, she switched subjects. "This is so incredibly lovely," she breathed, gazing about with wide eyes that matched the sea in color. "I can't believe I'm really here, and that we left freezing, snowy Bayport just this morning!"

"I knew you'd love it," Frank smiled. "Joe and I've been here before, a couple of times, and I agree, it's really pretty. I've always liked it. But having you here to share it with – baby, it makes it ten times better!"

###

They walked a long time, each couple only peripherally aware of the other, although they stayed within easy speaking distance, until the last vestiges of daylight disappeared into the swift tropical night, and brilliant stars began to appear in the darkening sky. Only then did they turn to make their way back to the hotel.

As they neared it, the beach became more and more crowded with other people out enjoying a quiet stroll on the sand. Or in the case of the hefty Hawaiian man who jogged right between them, nearly brushing shoulders with Vanessa on one side and Frank on the other, a NOT-so-quiet stroll!

"Jeez, you'd think people would watch where they're going, wouldn't you?" Joe fumed, gazing after the jogger.

"It's okay, no harm done," Vanessa soothed him. "Let's get back to the hotel, huh? All of a sudden I'm remembering that I got up on Eastern time, and we added five hours to the day! I'm pooped!"

They trooped across the little bridge, crossed the parking lot, and went into the hotel, ignoring people's amused looks and comments on Joe's and Vanessa's bedraggled state. None of them noticed the jogger, who had halted, and turned to look after them, his brilliant dark eyes narrowed.

 _Yes…that one ought to do nicely!_


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Max2013 and Sarai for the kind feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 5

Frank awoke too early for his liking, the next morning. Evidently his body was still running on Eastern time, and thought it was long past mid-morning. The slivers of light coming in around the edges of the heavy drapes, however, looked more like early-morning sunlight, not the full blaze of day. When he blinked sleepily and focused on the bedside clock, he found it was only just past six a.m. _Ugh! I could have slept for another hour, at the very least! That meet-and-greet doesn't even_ _start_ _until eight, and we don't have to be there for the whole thing!_

Irritated but now too wide-awake to return to his slumbers, Frank sat up slowly, and stretched, sighing. He looked over at the other bed, and smiled when he beheld his younger brother. Joe was lying sprawled on his stomach, the blanket shoved down and wrapped about his pajama-clad legs; his face turned sideways and partially hidden by a pillow. Apparently reacting to Frank's movements, he snuffled and rubbed at his face, then turned over, away from his brother and the soft light edging the windows. He pulled the pillow after him and pressed it close against his face once more. One deep sigh, and then it was very evident that Joe Hardy was sound asleep again.

Frank got up, striving for silence, and trotted into the bathroom. There was no reason to wake Joe up this early, but since he couldn't sleep, he might as well get on with the day. _Lucky Joe, able to sleep in!_ He hoped that Vanessa was able to do the same, since she was still recovering from that nasty cold – and the dunking in the ocean last night probably hadn't helped that recovery!

Showered and shaved, Frank got dressed, again making a real attempt to be quiet enough not to waken Joe. He chose one of the nicer outfits he had brought along – pressed gray slacks, a dark red polo shirt, and dress shoes. _Since I'm officially working as Dad's assistant at this seminar, I ought to try and make a good impression!_ He scribbled a brief note to Joe, advising his brother to do the same when he got dressed, and laid it prominently on the bathroom counter, where Joe couldn't possibly miss seeing it. Briefly, Frank admired the polo shirt in the mirror; it was one Megan had helped him select, when he was buying clothes for school last fall.

Rubbing a towel over his dark hair as he emerged from the bathroom, Frank grinned upon seeing his brother's state. Joe was now lying on his side, the blanket had slithered halfway to the floor, and his face was nearly obscured beneath the pillow. Stifling his laughter, Frank perched on the end of his bed and continued drying his hair, then pulled a comb through it until it was styled to his satisfaction, looking in the mirror over the bureau. He picked up his seminar packet, and rummaged through it to locate his name tag, which he fastened to his shirt.

Ready to go, Frank looked at the clock again. _A little before seven…._ He glanced at Joe once more. _He really ought to be getting up…he won't want to be late._

"Joe?" He touched Joe's shoulder lightly. "Joe, wake up."

A muted grumble was the only response Joe made.

"Joe. Wake up." Frank tried again, shaking a little harder this time.

Joe moved, brushing a hand across his face, and for a moment Frank thought he'd succeeded in his attempts, but instead of opening his eyes, Joe merely rolled over onto his other side and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

Sighing, the elder Hardy abandoned the effort. "All right, you're on your own," he said aloud. A sudden idea made his dark eyes sparkle wickedly.

Frank exited the room and scanned the hallway. Deserted. Too early for the housekeeping staff to be about, and evidently too early for any other of the hotel's occupants to be stirring, either, at least on this floor. He crossed the hall and tapped on the opposite door.

A moment later, it opened a crack and Vanessa peered out inquisitively. Seeing who it was, she gave him a sleepy smile. "Good morning."

"Morning, Van. Megan up?"

The blonde girl nodded. Her face was all Frank could see; she seemed to be concealing herself behind the door, and Frank realized belatedly that he'd probably gotten her out of bed. "She's awake. She says—" She pulled back, and Frank heard his girlfriend's muffled voice say something indecipherable. Vanessa popped her face into view again. "She says she'll meet you in the coffee shop in ten minutes."

"Okay. That works."

"Joe still asleep?" Vanessa inquired then.

"Of course – need you ask? But he needs to get up pretty soon, to make it to that eight o'clock meeting on time. Think you could get him up?"

"You so underestimate my powers of persuasion," Vanessa said, with pardonable pride. "You would be amazed at what I'm able to get Joe Hardy to do! So, no problem. I'll let him sleep a while longer, then pound frantically on the door until he has to answer it, for starters."

Frank reached into his jacket and produced his key card. "Better yet…" he said, letting his words trail off suggestively, and grinned, handing her the card. "Just get this back to me when you get downstairs."

"Got it." Vanessa winked, and withdrew. "See you at the meet and greet," she said, and closed the door.

Deciding to grab a cup of coffee to hold him over until the Continental breakfast offered for the seminar attendees, Frank got in line in the coffee shop located beside the hotel lobby. He whistled softly to himself as he waited. _I really love Hawaii._ The early-morning air pouring into the open-walled café smelled sweet, like jasmine – or some other flowery fragrance he couldn't pin down. What had those trees been? They were everywhere…. Megan had said…plumaria, that was it. _I've always loved Hawaii, when we were here on cases before – or ended up on a case without meaning to,_ he amended, recalling prior incidents. _Wish I could have seen more of the scenery when I was here before; everything's so pretty. Well, maybe we'll be able to do lots of sightseeing after the conference is over._

"Frank? Or Joe?" he heard a voice behind him say. Frank turned, to see a man standing behind him in line. Obviously Hawaiian, the man was large, quite large – at least two or three inches taller than Frank, and sturdy. He probably outweighed Frank by 50 pounds at the very least. He wore his dark hair long, brushed back into a ponytail that trailed halfway down his back. A badge was attached to his belt. "I'm Detective Meka Ekela, of the Hana police, on Maui. I'm assuming you're one of Fenton Hardy's sons?" There was a definite Island accent to his words, but it was easy to understand him.

Frank nodded and smiled, tapping his name tag. "You're right. I'm Frank. Pleased to meet you."

Detective Ekela explained that he was the sole representative of the Hana office attending the seminar. "It's not a very large precinct, but I'm honored to be part of it – and I'm happy to meet you, Frank. Have you been on the island long?" The big man kept his eyes fastened on Frank, taking his measure.

"No, we just got here yesterday afternoon. I've been to Oahu and Maui before, and I was here on the Big Island for a science project a couple of years ago – but I've never gotten to see as much of the area as I'd like to. I'm hoping to correct that, this trip." Frank was slightly unnerved by the big detective's scrutiny, and felt uncomfortable for a moment – and then realized he recognized the look. It was identical to the one he'd seen his dad give to someone he was sizing up – or investigating. He'd seen it on Con Riley's face too, and Chief Collig's. He relaxed, recognizing the expression as 'I'm a cop; I'm never off duty.'

"Hey, Frank!" The soft voice and a hand slipping into his, announced Megan's arrival. "No coffee yet? We're going to have breakfast at the meet and greet, right?"

"Right, we are; no, I haven't, and good morning, beautiful." Frank dropped a light kiss on the top of Megan's head. "Detective Ekela, this is my – this is Megan Wright. Megan, Detective Meka Ekela, from Hana, on Maui."

Megan's dimpled, mega-watt smile was turned on the policeman, and he smiled in automatic response as he nodded. " _Aloha, nani wahini_. I'm pleased to meet you." But despite the welcoming words, Ekela was using that same scrutinizing gaze on Megan as he had leveled on Frank – and Frank found he wasn't nearly as comfortable with that laser stare now. "She is yours, Frank – your girl?" the detective grinned, his dark eyes twinkling. "She belongs to you?"

Frank laughed at that. "I doubt that Megan would care to be listed as one of my possessions," he said, "but yes, I have the pleasure of being her boyfriend." _And it goes further than that_ , his mind continued silently.

Megan smiled demurely, gently rubbing the ring on her left hand. She gripped Frank's hand a little more tightly, then laughed as Ekela continued to speak.

"If I were a few years younger, youngster, I'd give you a run for your money with this one!" He winked at Frank, as Megan blushed.

Frank felt himself blushing too. He laughed again, and nodded. "Megan's the most special girl in the world, sir – I'm glad people know it when they see it."

"Frank…" Megan shook her head at him, her cheeks turning even pinker.

"I'd better go; I can grab coffee at the Continental breakfast," Ekela decided, and turned away. "Nice meeting you both." Moving swiftly despite his bulk, the detective disappeared from the café.

Securing their coffee, Frank and Megan found seats at a small table beneath a towering palm tree. Several other linen-covered tables were scattered about the large lanai. A long, narrow pond curved itself about near the tables, filled with brightly-colored koi swimming lazily and poking their snouts out of the water, hoping for handouts.

"It's so peaceful here," Megan commented, with a contented little sigh. She looked down at the fishpond. "I wish I'd bought some toast or something, now – they want to be fed."

Frank chuckled. "They don't need to be fed, they just want to be fed. They're fat as it is! I remember a hotel we stayed at in Honolulu – there was one restaurant that was built around a whole lot of koi ponds. No matter where you sat, you were near the fish."

"There're your parents," Megan observed, pointing to Fenton and Laura as they emerged from the elevator bay and approached the coffee shop. She waved, and they smiled and returned the greeting. They were walking slowly, hand in hand, obviously relaxed and enjoying their surroundings. Megan was reminded of Lake Tahoe once more…before things had started going downhill.

When his parents reached them, Frank tilted his face up to receive a light kiss on the cheek from Laura. Fenton busied himself pulling two more chairs up to the table.

"Don't you need your laptop this morning, Dad?"

Fenton nodded, seating himself. "I'll get it a little later. I didn't want to lug it down here to the coffee shop."

"How are you two this morning?" Laura inquired, calmly annexing Frank's cup of coffee and sipping.

"I'm great! I can't wait to get out and see more of Hilo!" Megan smiled. "But even this is incredible!" she added, gazing happily around the beautiful café.

"I agree, it's great here," Frank concurred. "I love it too. Dad, what do you have planned for this morning's session?" he asked.

"I'm going to kick it off with 'observing your surroundings,'" Fenton replied. "Something to emphasize the importance of observation. It's a hands-on sort of class, so I'll need you both there to help. Frank, I'd like you to run the slide presentation on the computer; that starts the presentation. Megan, I'm going to assign you the incredibly important job of handing out paper, pencils and pens, course outlines, and all that sort of thing. All the things they should have brought, but forgot to."

Megan dimpled. "I think I can handle that. I'd be more than happy to."

Seeing that if he didn't take pre-emptive action his mother was going to abscond with all his coffee, Frank made a hasty trip to the counter again, and brought back cups for both his parents – and a piece of toast for Megan to shred and toss to the fish. By the time the bread was gone, Fenton had gulped down his coffee and was rising to his feet.

"I think I'd better go get the laptop and maybe run through the slides once more; make sure everything's in order. After all, this was a really last-minute affair to put together…"

"Relax, darling, you've gone through them a dozen times already," Laura said soothingly. "You know you'll be fine – you'll be great!"

Her husband shrugged and grinned shamefacedly. "I admit, I'm nervous about this. I haven't had much prep time, it all came up so suddenly. I just need to work through the jitters, I suppose."

"Mr. Hardy – uh, I mean…Fenton," Megan corrected herself, seeing his dark eyes twinkle at her teasingly, and recollecting their conversation in the Los Angeles airport. "I know you'll be great; I'm looking forward to hearing what you have to say. I'll get the benefit of learning from you as well as working for you!"

Fenton raised an eyebrow at that, but he smiled and patted her hand, and then tugged affectionately at one of the red-gold curls. "Thank you, honey." He leaned over and kissed Laura, then turned and headed for the elevators.

Frank, who had not been privy to the particulars of his father's talk with Megan, elevated his eyebrows in simulated shock. "Fenton? You're calling him Fenton?"

#####

Frank finished securing all the connections from the projector to his father's laptop computer, then hit the buttons on the remote control provided for the projector. Thankfully, everything seemed to be working correctly, and the laptop display showed up where he expected it to. Breathing a sigh of relief, Frank glanced over at the entrance to the big conference room, and spotted Megan handing out outlines and other paraphernalia to the various police officers as they entered.

 _She's charming the socks off 'em!_ he thought, as he saw the dimple flash, and heard that irresistible soft laughter that characterized the petite redhead. She was speaking to nearly everyone who came in, welcoming them with the grace and poise which came so naturally to her. He saw a familiar blonde head and face in the doorway, towering over most of the others – Lt. Dylan McCullough had arrived.

McCullough paused to speak to Megan, and the watching Frank saw her blush, and heard her laughter peal out again. Evidently Dylan was still being as aggressively charming as he had appeared the day before! Slightly disgruntled, Frank kept his eyes on them – and as if he had felt the gaze, McCullough looked up, grinned in a friendly fashion at Frank, and sketched a half-salute of greeting, a sort of one-finger tap to the side of his forehead. It was as if the older man had said, _Hey, I know you're there – trust me, I'm harmless!_ Frank relaxed and grinned in return.

Getting back to work, he blanked the projector so he could run through the slides, then set the slide show onto the first slide and turned the blank off again so the first slide appeared on the large screen just behind and above his father's head, reading: **Do You See What You Really See?** Then he looked again at Megan, who caught his eye and smiled and fluttered her fingers in a tiny wave, before she returned to handing out more outlines.

Frank wriggled slightly, getting more comfortable on his stool, and watched as his father walked up to the podium at the front of the stage, and set a notebook on top of it. Fenton tapped the microphone lightly, to make sure the sound system was working properly, and at this subtle suggestion, the police officers began making their way to seats.

When everyone had found his or her place, Megan quietly shut the doors and took her own chair next to them. Fenton cleared his throat, and began his talk, introducing himself, welcoming the officers, and then launched into his talk.

"Observation is one of the most important aspects of law enforcement and detective work, and an integral part of any security procedure—"

After being assured his father was well into his speech, Frank spent the next few minutes watching his girlfriend, instead of listening. Megan, on the other hand, seemed enraptured by Fenton's talk. Well, she hadn't grown up with it being discussed over the dinner table, as he and Joe had, Frank mused, and smiled as he turned his attention back to the front. He switched on the projector at the appropriate moment, and started the slide show.

Just as one slide changed smoothly to the next, however, an alarming thing happened – the overhead lights, which had been partially dimmed to allow the slides to show better, suddenly went completely dark, leaving the room illuminated only by the soft glow of the slides themselves!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to Cherylann, BMSH, Sarai and Max2013 for your kind comments.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 6

 _Whoops!_ For just a fraction of a second, Frank was startled; then he smiled quietly as understanding dawned. He watched the steady colors emanating from the screen, and leaned back in his chair, still smiling. _Wonder when the lights will go on again?_ He was fairly sure he knew what was going on; this was one of his father's favorite little tests having to do with observation.

Frank knew that he, himself, wouldn't score all that high, if he was one being tested. He had to admit that he hadn't been paying too much attention to the room during his father's opening talk. He'd been doing something he found _much_ more enjoyable: Megan-watching. Megan-watching was an occupation he found fun and entertaining; much more so than meticulously trying to figure out the placement of every single object in the room! _Dad would be disappointed if he knew,_ he admitted to himself. _Or, at least, he'd be disappointed that I didn't take full notice of my surroundings_ _before_ _or_ _while_ _Megan-watching!_ _Guess I'd better work on that skill – splitting my attention!_

The crowd was starting to grow a little restive now, in the unnerving silence and darkness. There were some mutters from various spots having to do with finding out what the problem was and getting it dealt with. But before anyone could make a move to go investigate, the lights abruptly flashed on again. Frank, blinking in the sudden illumination with the rest of them, took a quick look around the room, knowing from experience what was coming.

 _What's changed?_

He found several things that were different, right off the bat. Megan's chair had been moved from the right side of the double entrance doors to the far left side. The podium where Fenton stood was no longer just to the right of the screen, but had moved over a couple of feet. The curtain backing the screen was now partially open, revealing an elegant rock wall behind it.

And another difference: Joe, who had been conspicuously absent before the lights dimmed, was now sitting near the front of the room, in a seat near the end of one row; and Vanessa was seated just below Frank's chair at the back of the room. She turned her head, and as Frank caught her eye, he winked – and then turned his attention to his father.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen; this was a little test for your powers of observation," Mr. Hardy said genially. "Can you tell me what things you notice have changed in this room during the time the lights were out? Just raise a hand; I'll call on you. Be sure to speak up so that everyone can hear, please."

The responses were heartening; these people were professionals, after all. Nearly everything had been caught by _someone_ ; many had been noticed by a great percentage of the police officers. No one, however, had picked up Vanessa's presence in the back; and no one, not even Frank, had noticed that Mr. Hardy had changed his tie!

"Good job," the detective commended them, after he had pointed out the 'missed' items. "In a criminal investigation, everything is important, or can be; from a pebble in the dirt to the blood spatters on the wall; to a dead body on the ground, to the car rocking precariously on the edge of a cliff. Everything has to be taken into account, when you're at a crime scene. You all know that.

"And in matters of security, it's equally important. Sure, security systems are becoming ever more sophisticated – but nothing will ever completely replace or improve on human eyesight and observation skills and ingenuity. A computer has to be reprogrammed…which takes time. Humans can reprogram, as it were, instantly. And also, they can immediately process something that's out of place. A security program might report something out of place…but it takes a human to decipher what that might mean."

The lecture continued in a similar vein, and the class listened intently. Even though he'd heard it all before – years of dinner-table conversations had revolved around things like this! – Frank listened as well, nearly as interested as the police officers. He noticed that Megan was drinking it all in, her eyes fixed on Fenton's face as he lectured; her hand gripping a pen tightly as she jotted down notes. Frank was amused by her fascination, but he was well aware of Megan's near hero-worship of his father. And after all, she _was_ a Criminal Justice major too! This stuff was right up her alley, and she hadn't heard it from childhood, after all.

Frank returned his attention to the task of monitoring the slides illustrating his father's talk, but he found time to keep an eye on the room. Occasionally Megan glanced around, and once or twice Frank caught her eye and exchanged a smile with her. Joe and Vanessa, once the point about noticing changes had been made, slipped quietly away; they were 'off duty,' after all. Joe dropped a note on Frank's lap as he walked by, and the elder brother unfolded the slip of paper. _Be back later – meet you for lunch!_

###

Finally the seminar broke for lunch, and Frank powered down the screen. He left the computer running, realizing it would save Joe and Vanessa a few minutes of time during the afternoon session. He accepted his father's quiet 'Good job, son; thanks,' with pleased appreciation, and headed across the big room, threading his way between knots of police officers toward the far wall, where he saw Megan talking to Vanessa and Joe. The girls both turned to him with bright smiles on their faces as he neared them; Joe tilted an eyebrow and nodded in silent greeting.

"I'm starving!" Megan announced as Frank joined the group. She reached for his hand and repeated her declaration. "STARVING, Frank Hardy, you hear?"

He grinned, squeezing her hand. "I hear. What about you? You starving too?" he asked Vanessa.

"Not me, no way," Vanessa replied, shaking her head. "Joe and I ate our fill – and then some – at the breakfast buffet! I doubt that I'll be able to eat anything for a month, after all that fresh fruit I scarfed down. I don't think I've ever had such good fruit; at least not so many kinds. If we eat like that the whole time we're here, I'm going to have to go on a serious diet when we get back to Bayport!"

Joe regarded his girlfriend thoughtfully for a moment. "You'd have to gain about a hundred pounds before you'd need to go on a diet," he scoffed. "Anyway, you're beautiful no matter what – so eat all you want, babe. Besides, fruit's good for you."

Vanessa's blue-gray eyes twinkled. She smiled at Frank and Megan as she murmured, "He's not so bad…I think I'll keep him, even if he can be sort of a brute at times. Come on, let's go find something to fill the little bottomless pit, here." She winked at Megan and led the way toward the exit.

"Excuse me? Little bottomless pit?" Megan repeated, stalking after her friend. "Just who ate the enormous breakfast here? SOME of us only had coffee and a croissant – and I fed my toast to a FISH..."

"A brute? A BRUTE? I'm not a brute!" Joe whimpered plaintively as he followed his brother and the two girls from the meeting room. "Frank, tell her I'm not a brute!"

Frank glanced over his shoulder and snorted derisively. "Coulda fooled me, Conan."

Joe trailed behind for a few yards, still protesting, then caught up to Vanessa and took her hand in his. They found a conveniently nearby delicatessen that served sub sandwiches, and settled into a booth; Megan and Frank to eat, Joe and Vanessa to watch and drink iced tea with pineapple in it, and make conversation.

While they ate, Megan and Vanessa's eyes kept straying to the windows. Eventually, the boys looked too, and found their girlfriends were apparently evaluating the window displays in a nearby clothing shop.

"Want to hit it when I finish?" Megan inquired, tilting her head toward the store.

Vanessa smiled happily. "I don't mind if I do."

Frank and Joe exchanged apprehensive looks. _Shopping_ … _already_?

"I'd like to get a jump-start on my shopping," Vanessa continued, absently taking a pickle slice from Megan's plate and crunching it thoughtfully. "Just look at that scarf in the front – don't you think it would make a great wrap to go with my new swim suit?"

"I think it would be lovely," Megan concurred, grinning at Frank, who shook his head in defeat but had to smile…just because it was Megan, and Megan's sparkling personality, and because he loved her so much he could even face the horrors of… _shopping_!

"Hello, Mr. Hardy." The new voice broke through Joe's despairing groan. They looked up in surprise, and Frank recognized the police detective from Hana they'd met earlier. "I thought I'd drop by and mention that I thought you do a nice job assisting your father. Are you going to have a chance to see some of our beautiful Hawaii today?"

"Detective…Ekela – right?" Frank hesitated. "Thank you, and yes, I've got the afternoon free."

The detective nodded, smiling at Frank's remembering his name, and grinned a sort of 'hello' at Megan, who smiled too, turning the full wattage of her eyes and dimple-accented smile on the older man.

"This is my brother, Joe…and his girlfriend, Vanessa Bender. You met Megan earlier, of course. Joe, this is Detective Meka Ekela from Hana, on Maui."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Joe half-rose, and extended his hand cordially.

Ekela drew his attention from Megan, whom he had been studying with that same intent, focused expression he had worn before, and shook hands with both Joe and Vanessa.

" _Aloha_ and welcome to Hawaii," he said. "I see that associating with beautiful women is a commonality with your family," he noted to Frank, with an extravagant bow over Vanessa's hand. "I'm very glad to meet you both;" he went on. "Are you enjoying your stay on the Big Island so far?"

"Well, we've only been here one night," Joe admitted, "but we like it here very much!"

"We'll have a chance to play tourist later, after the seminar; we're kind of tied up with helping Dad with that right now," Frank explained. "When it's done, though, I'm looking forward to seeing the whole island."

Detective Ekela nodded his understanding. "The Big Island has beautiful scenery and a lot of history," he told them. "Of course, I'm partial to Maui, but even I have to admit that the Big Island is special. If you can, do take the time to go see Kilauea, the fiery mountain. It's definitely worth the trip! There are places where you can view it from a safe distance – and it's a part of nature unlike any other!"

"I want to see it very much," Vanessa confided. "I've been intrigued with the idea of the home of Pelè since – well, even before we got here! I'm looking forward to seeing it up close!"

"Pelè would be honored by your visit," Ekela said graciously. He gazed at the tall blonde girl with the same intensity that he had Megan, and Frank watched him, feeling slightly disturbed by this scrutiny and wondering if he was actually _jealous_ of the police detective!

Ekela extended his observing to include Joe now; studying him and Vanessa as the two of them interacted. They were sitting close together, holding hands; occasionally leaning in for a quick kiss or touch. Ekela smiled sympathetically and returned his attention to Frank and Megan.

"I'd better go now," he said. "If you need a tour guide to look around the Big Island later, just let me know. I'd be more than willing to show some interested tourists around." He winked, blew kisses at Megan and Vanessa, who both laughed and blushed, and departed, with a friendly wave.

"Have you noticed how friendly the men are in Hawaii?" Megan murmured to Vanessa. "That nice Lt. McCullough, and now Detective Ekela?"

"I've noticed." Vanessa's eyes sparkled wickedly as she took in the sulky expressions on both the Hardys' faces. She glanced at her wristwatch. "Well, I think our shopping time got used up in making polite conversation."

"We still have time for a walk before we have to be back for the afternoon session," Joe said, and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, beautiful; some sunshine will be good for you. Vitamin D, you know."

"Never eating that much for breakfast again…no matter how good the fruit is! I may not even want dinner!" Vanessa reiterated, allowing herself to be taken away. "Have fun with your afternoon off!"

"We will," Megan assured them.

###

"C'mon, let's check out the miniature golf course," Joe urged Vanessa. "It's at the other end of the hotel complex, according to the map I was looking at. If it's nice, maybe we could try that out this evening, you think?"

"Sure, if you think Frank and Megan would want to."

Joe grinned maliciously. "I hope Frank gets really tired this afternoon…his golf shots are always way, way off when he's tired. That way I could give him a run for his money – for once!"

Vanessa laughed. "Wicked, wicked Joe," she chastised. "Wanting to take advantage of your older brother like that!"

"It's a rule!" Joe informed her, with some indignation. "It's in the _Younger Brother's Official Handbook._ Rule Number 11439, Subsection B. The younger brother must take advantage of the older brother whenever – and however many times – it is possible."

"I want to see that handbook," Vanessa mused. "Why haven't I ever seen it before?"

Joe shook his head vehemently. "Nope. Rule #1, Section A, states clearly that only younger brothers may see the book. No one else. No mention of girlfriends, no matter how beautiful they are."

Laughing and teasing, the two made their way along the rock-laid pathway which stretched across the front of the hotel. They stepped out into the parking lot, to cut to a new section of sidewalk, sauntering slowly and enjoying the brilliant sunshine and beautiful scenery – when suddenly, Vanessa glanced up, and let out a sharp cry!

A large, brand-new Mercedes sedan was heading straight for them!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to Cherylann, BMSH, Sarai and Max2013 for your kind comments.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 7

Joe didn't have time to think about his reaction, he went on habit and instinct. Without hesitation, he shoved Vanessa hard – as hard as he was able – to one side, and at the same time, flung himself to the opposite side of the roadway. The momentum of his leap nearly vaulted him over a line of low-growing flowery shrubs which lined the drive.

He rolled to a stop on the ground and lay there, panting with exertion, staring up at the sky as he tried to catch his breath. He heard the Mercedes' tires squeal as the heavy car tore around a corner, and then the engine gunned, and the sounds receded as the vehicle moved farther away.

"Vanessa?" Joe pushed himself to a sitting position and looked around to locate his girlfriend. Spotting her, he slowly got to his feet and walked over to where she was sitting. "You okay?"

Half-sprawled in a patch of grass, Vanessa now sat up, rubbing one elbow. An expression of consternation suffused her face, and she extended the arm cautiously, twisting it, evidently trying to see her elbow. Joe knelt beside her and gently took hold of her arm.

"Let's see it, babe." He inspected the area carefully. "Sorry I didn't have time to do that better," he apologized. "I figured speed was better than finesse, right then!" To his relief, his girlfriend didn't appear to be seriously hurt, or even much damaged. She had a nice wide scrape on her elbow, and some dirt smudges on her face, but other than that, Vanessa looked pretty good. Joe gazed after the departed Mercedes, a scowl contorting his features. "Those creeps! They could have killed us!"

"But they didn't, thanks to you," Vanessa reminded him with a grateful smile. She leaned to kiss his cheek gently. "Thank you, Joe." Using Joe as a prop, she scrambled to her feet. "Let's go up and get cleaned up fast. We have to be on duty at the seminar soon, remember? Maybe we can report this to someone there."

Joe nodded, momentarily abstracted. He was trying to recall everything he could about that Mercedes, but he hadn't gotten much chance to get a very good look at it; he'd been trying to _avoid_ it, not get a make on it! He could feel fury building inside him; it wasn't so much that the occupants of the car had tried to hit _him_ that made him irate; it was the danger that Vanessa had been in! If there was anything he could do to ID it, he would try. But for now….

"Okay babe, I'm with you. You sure you're okay to walk?" Joe put a solicitous arm around Vanessa as they walked back into the hotel and headed for the bank of elevators.

###

"C'mon into our room; we've got first aid stuff;" Joe invited, once they reached their floor. "And you can't see to fix up that elbow, anyway!" He ushered Vanessa into the boys' room and seated her carefully. "You just sit tight, and ol' Doc Hardy'll have you fixed up in no time!"

Vanessa snickered. "And just where did you get your medical degree, Dr. Hardy?" she quizzed him. "Did you send for it by mail?"

Joe huffed good-naturedly and made a face at her as he fetched the first-aid supplies that Frank always packed whenever they traveled. Wetting a washcloth in the bathroom, he gently cleaned the scrapes, then applied antiseptic ointment and a wide adhesive bandage. He added a couple of pieces of medical tape for good measure, then checked it over carefully, smiling at his handiwork. "There. All done. How does it feel?"

"It feels fine, Dr. Hardy," she smiled, and kissed his cheek. "You do good work, mail-order degree or not!" She kissed him again. "My hero," she murmured, "you saved my life, you know! Thank you for saving me!"

"Thank you – for not getting hurt too bad!" Joe replied, returning the kiss with enthusiasm.

"We'd better get downstairs," Vanessa murmured, when she was allowed to breathe again.

Joe grimaced, but had to concede that Vanessa was right. Reluctantly, he took her hand and led the way to the door. When they emerged, still holding hands, they were more than a little surprised to nearly bump into the large form of Detective Ekela!

"Detective! I'm surprised to see you up here – is something wrong?" Joe asked, disturbed.

"No, nothing," Ekela replied. He regarded the young couple for a few moments, then continued, "I was hoping for a few words with your father before the afternoon session begins, young Joe, but I'm afraid I forgot his room number. Would he be available, do you think?"

"I really don't know," Joe admitted. "The last time I saw him, he was downstairs – but that was before lunch! His room's right there." He indicated his father's room, adding "You can check and see, or leave a message for him at the desk."

"Thanks, I'll probably do that," the big detective nodded, and turned to make his way down the hall towards the elevators.

"I'm going to change really quickly, Joe; I've got grass stains in places there shouldn't be," Vanessa informed her boyfriend, when they were alone again. "Wait for me, I'll just be a few minutes!"

"Okay babe, but make it snappy; I don't want to get in Dutch with Dad for being late!" Joe leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, prepared to wait indefinitely.

#####

Kona Police Captain Aaron Masukoko walked slowly and quietly into the hotel, but his easy pace was belied by the angry flashing of his dark eyes as he moved towards the front desk. Not a large man, merely average in size, the Captain still managed to look threatening as he advanced; his expression was deadly as he made his quiet way toward the slightly smaller man who stood behind the front desk.

The desk clerk watched his approach and swallowed nervously, wondering if he ought to summon hotel security – and then the captain pulled out his badge and held it out.

"Do you know," he said, in a voice that simply _reeked_ with veiled threat, "what has happened to my car?"

"Your car?" The guest clerk's voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat carefully before speaking again. "Your car…sir?"

"My car," Masukoko informed him, still in that deadly-calm voice. "My brand-new, silver Mercedes Benz, shipped just two days ago from the dealership in Honolulu. My car, that I bought with nearly twelve years' worth of savings. With work – and blood, sweat and tears. My CAR, young man, which was parked by your valet parking attendants, and is now missing!" The Captain leaned forward on the desk and stared deeply into the alarmed eyes of the clerk. "I think we should do something about this, shouldn't we?"

Again the man swallowed nervously. "But…but you're the police," he ventured, "Y-you—"

"That's right," Masukoko interjected. "I'm the police and my car was taken. It seems the only thing I can do, now, is shake down the entire hotel and talk to every guest here about where they were and who might have seen my car drive away – without me in it. And then I'm going to have to take all of your parking valets in for questioning, because obviously one of them has to be behind it and I wouldn't want to miss anyone—"

"W-wait," the young man stammered. "Wait. Please. Let me get the manager."

He disappeared like a frightened rabbit through the door behind him, leaving the irate Captain Masukoko steaming. A few minutes later, he returned, with another man right behind him.

 _Great_ , thought Masukoko. _A malihini!_

"Can I help you, Captain?" The manager tried to sound both attentive and soothing, but it was difficult with Masukoko's glare boring into him!

"I certainly hope so!" he growled, and proceeded to explain once more about his brand-new silver Mercedes, which had gone missing from the lot, and how he intended to question everyone in the hotel to find it.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but there's no way I can allow that; we can't have our guests disrupted like that!" The manager tried a glare of his own. It didn't match Masukoko's, but it was a fair imitation.

"May I remind you that I'M a guest here as well, and I'VE been disrupted?!" the police captain barked. "And I suspect that I'll have to involve all my police colleagues too, to help me find my missing car – and that will probably disrupt THEM. It may even make them unhappy. Police officers don't like being unhappy."

The manager paled visibly. "Captain, I'm sure we can work something out…"

"For starters, do you have surveillance cameras on the parking lot?" Masukoko snapped. When the manager nodded, he continued: "So isn't there a chance that the car was seen being driven off the lot, and wouldn't it be much easier to just let me see the surveillance tapes…than to go to all the TROUBLE and HASSLE of bothering all the guests?" he finished sweetly.

"Of—of course it would," the manager stammered. "Why didn't you just ask to see the tapes in the first place, Captain?"

Masukoko gave him a feral smile. "Because my way usually gets more results!"

"You always get results, Captain." A new voice inserted itself into the conversation.

Captain Masukoko whirled about, and his sharp features relaxed into a smile. " _Aloha_ , Lt. McCullough."

"What's going on?" Dylan McCullough inquired curiously. "You sounded upset."

The Captain explained, for the third time, and was just enlisting McCullough's aid in looking at the surveillance tapes when the Lieutenant smiled over his shoulder and nodded to someone. Turning again, Masukoko beheld a young blonde couple approaching, holding hands.

"Did I just hear you say you were looking for a silver Mercedes?" Joe asked. "Excuse me for the interruption – but we were almost run over by one, a little while ago!"

Dylan performed hasty introductions, and then Masukoko eyed Joe and Vanessa expectantly. "Let's hear about what happened to you," he demanded.

"We were crossing the parking lot, and a silver Mercedes nearly ran us down," Joe said again. He lifted Vanessa's arm. "We had to dive into the shrubbery to get out of the way – and got scraped up…see?"

"What else did you see?" the captain asked grumpily. "Anything that would ID the driver?"

"No – sorry," Joe admitted. "We were too busy jumping out of the way to see much else."

Masukoko turned his attention back to Lt. McCullough. "Are we going to see those tapes or not?"

"Let's go," Dylan assented.

"We could go with you," Joe offered. "And show you what little I saw—"

"No thanks, Joe; we can manage," McCullough brushed the offer aside. The two officers departed, following the still-shaken guest clerk.

Joe stared after them, slightly nettled. He'd wanted to see the tapes, so that he could identify the creep or creeps who had tried to run them down – so he could clobber them!

"Come on, Joe; we need to get back to the seminar," Vanessa reminded him, tugging at his arm.

Reluctantly conceding that she was right, Joe followed, still feeling somewhat put out. When they reached the meeting room, however, they were intercepted by Chief Pauahi of Hilo.

"Joe, have you happened to see Lt. McCullough lately? His captain in Honolulu is trying to get hold of him."

"I just saw him," Joe replied. "He's with Captain Masukoko, looking at security tapes. His car was stolen out of the hotel lot."

'McCullough's was?"

"No, Captain Masukoko's!"

"Oh no," Pauahi groaned.

"What's wrong?"

"That's the fourth car stolen like that in two weeks," the police chief explained. "It's beginning to look like we have a nice car-theft ring on our hands!"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to those who left feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 8

Joe took a peek at his watch. _Uh-oh._ He and Vanessa were going to be cutting it fine, if they were to get to the afternoon session of the police seminar on time. He knew they should go, and right away – but he was too intrigued by this mysterious car-theft stuff! _Maybe it's something Frank and I could work on – and solve! – while we're here in the Islands!_ He really wanted to get some more information from Chief Pauahi, if possible!

Joe brushed back a vagrant strand of blonde hair from his forehead. "Chief Pauahi, can you – could you – tell me what's been going on with these car thefts? How can they steal cars from an island, anyway? Is there some way to ship them off, that they aren't noticed? Is there a way that they can be stripped for parts in Hilo, or something?"

The Chief smiled indulgently. He'd heard a few things about Fenton Hardy's offspring – things which made him feel it would be safe to share information with this intensely curious young man. "It's baffling all of us, I'm afraid. Normally, if a car is stolen here on the Big Island, it's some kids wanting to take a joyride. They take their drive, run the car out of gas, and abandon it later on, usually a few miles from where it was originally stolen."

"Do you usually catch who did it?" Joe asked.

"Oh, sometimes – not always, but often enough. We catch them, punish them – although sometimes they're let off with a stern warning, or maybe probation, especially if it's a first offense – depends on what the owner of the car wants to do, as a rule."

Joe nodded his comprehension. It sounded as though car-thefts hadn't been a major problem up until now. "But now?" he prodded.

"Now," Pauahi went on grimly, "we're not finding the cars, once they've been taken. They disappear completely, as if they're dissipating into the morning fog, or being driven into the ocean – or buried somewhere. Or hidden in caves, perhaps? Who knows? So far, we haven't been able to come up with anything, and none of our sources are coming up with any information. That's assuming that anyone besides the thieves know anything."

Joe took another surreptitious glance at his watch, and sighed softly. He would have much rather stayed out here and pumped Chief Pauahi for more scraps of information, but he knew quite well that he had responsibilities. _Time to go help Dad. Oh well, at least Vanessa'll be with me!_ "Chief Pauahi, I have to go now—"

"So do I, Joe; the afternoon session will be starting soon," Pauahi interposed.

"Exactly," Joe agreed. "But would you be willing to meet with me later, so I could hear more about the car theft ring?"

"Not much more to tell you, Joe," Pauahi shrugged. "You've already heard what I know, so there isn't much point in going over it again."

Joe was about to attempt a little more persuasion, when he felt a tug on his arm. Turning his attention from the police chief, he found Vanessa smiling at him meaningfully.

"Joe," she said, with another firm tug, "we have to get in there right now. We have things to do for your dad – remember?" And she started for the conference room, pulling Joe behind her.

A few minutes later, as he passed out the afternoon schedules and handouts at the door, Joe was still pondering what Chief Pauahi had told him, and comparing it to his and Vanessa's experience in the parking lot. _It seemed like it was younger people – kids – that tried to run down Vanessa and me. The laughter sounded young, anyway, even though I didn't really_ _see_ _anything…. Of course, it might not have been the driver laughing. It might just have been someone who thought we looked comical... I wonder if there would be some way I could get into the group, infiltrate…find out more about them, blend in…get the low-down….Of course, that's kinda silly...I wouldn't blend in with a bunch of Hawaiian kids!_

Absently glancing up, Joe found Vanessa's eyes fixed upon him, and she was shaking her head reproachfully. _Ooops!_ He hadn't been paying attention. He closed the doors as Fenton started his presentation. He'd just have to concentrate on what his dad was saying – and try to block out those enticing thoughts of busting a car-theft ring!

#####

"Yeeee-haw!"

Frank raised one hand above his head in triumph, as he managed – just barely – to scramble to his feet on the surfboard, and ride the relatively small wave for several feet, before tipping sideways into the warm, foamy water. He floundered for a few moments, slightly disoriented as to which way was up and which down, feeling the tug of the strap which tethered the board to his ankle. Finally, he popped above the surface of the waves, and stood up in the waist-deep water.

"That was graceful." The teasing voice came from his right, where Megan sat, balanced on a boogie-board and looking as if she'd been born and bred in the water. She shoved her wet hair back, flashing the dimpled smile that always melted Frank into something resembling warm Silly Putty.

 _She looks like a mermaid…or better yet, a water angel. ARE there such things as water angels? A water sprite, maybe…what are they called? Naiads? Yeah, she's my naiad…._ He smiled as she paddled her board closer to him, and teasingly splashed him with a few handfuls of water.

"Well, it takes awhile to get your surf legs back, when you haven't done it in a while," he defended himself, and splashed back in gentle retaliation. "You give it a try and see how you do!"

"No thanks; I know my limits." Megan's delicious laughter bubbled up. "I'm not into all that crashing into the water."

"You remind me of Tahoe in that suit," he said, openly admiring the aqua-and-black two-piece which he had first seen her wear in August – on that regrettable vacation trip which had taken such a catastrophic turn!

"You're not wearing the suit you took to Tahoe," she pointed out, eyeing his garishly-printed surfing shorts. "Did you even bring that red Speedo along? Speaking of Tahoe, though, I do want to try parasailing while we're here, if we can. We didn't get to do it together there, remember? Someone – and I'm not naming names, here – was in the hospital."

Frank laughed and shrugged, good-naturedly. "You and Vanessa got to do it," he reminded her, "and I got to watch you. I agree it's fun…but so's surfing!" He pulled himself back onto his surfboard as he spoke, and grinned wickedly at his girlfriend. "Race ya!" he called out, paddling hard with both arms to get further out into the surf.

She shrieked something that Frank didn't quite catch – probably an insult – and took off after him, sliding off to push her boogie-board ahead of her and kicking hard to catch up.

"Look at that wave!" Frank yelled back to her. "It's a beauty! Better hang on to your board, Baby!" He paddled harder, and finally gained the place he wanted to be. Shakily, he scrambled to a standing position on his board once again. Determined to have a successful ride this time, he set his jaw and took a stance like he remembered from previous surfing lessons. He managed a glance at Megan, and saw her swing her boogie-board into position and wait for the wave to come in under her, holding on for dear life!

Frank, precariously balanced atop his board, bent his knees and held his arms out. As the water surged up beneath him, for a moment he felt as if he was going to be swept under – and then the surfboard lifted, sliding smoothly to the top of the wave, and down the front edge…. And Frank found himself shooting along, faster than ever before!

"YEEEEEE-HAW!" His triumphant yell was swallowed up in the pounding rush of the surf, but none the less strident, for all that. A few more feet, and Frank succumbed to the inevitable – falling off. He pushed towards the surface, protecting his head with his arms until the tumbling waves flattened out, and he was sure the board wasn't going to hit him in the head. He spit out salty water and sand, shaking his head and grinning.

"That was a good one!" he yelled at Megan, who was once more sitting to one side on her boogie board and kicking her feet in the water. She had apparently coasted in all the way on the board, with her usual grace. "How'd you do, baby?"

"I stayed on my board," she replied nonchalantly, "Unlike some people I could mention—"

"Ha-ha, very funny!" Frank swam the few yards to Megan's board and calmly flipped it over, dumping her into the ocean, and grinning as her indignant shriek dissolved into bubbles rising to the surface. "You were saying?" he smirked, when she emerged, sputtering, and then, before she could reply, he caught her against himself and kissed her. "Love you…love you…love you…even if you are all wet and sandy…and covered in seaweed…." he murmured, between kisses. Finally he released her. "Having fun yet?"

Megan sighed and nodded, her face lighted by a beatific smile. "I am having an absolute blast," she assured him. "Frank, this is simply heaven on earth!"

They took a few more waves, enjoying the warmth of the water and the air, and the pure delight of the rush of riding the waves, but at last Megan confessed that she was beginning to get tired. They waded ashore and sought out a warm, dry spot to lay their beach towels and soak up the afternoon sun. Megan fell asleep almost immediately, and Frank dozed off as well.

He woke a short time later, and decided to flip over and get some sun on the other side. As he rolled over, he saw a couple of kids about his own age standing a short distance away and talking – actually arguing, it seemed, for they were waving their arms in the air and shoving at each other. Frank started to push himself up, wondering if he should intervene, when he caught some of their words.

"…stupid one who'll get us caught! And then where'll we be? It's money in the bank, _brah_!"

"Don't worry," the second boy said, "We'll…" The crash of a wave hitting the shore obscured his next words, then they became audible again. "…to anyone who gets in the way! Get rid of them!"

While Frank hadn't been able to hear all of what was said, the accompanying gesture was more than clear. The young man who was speaking had made a 'shooting gun' with his forefinger and thumb, and then drawn a finger across his throat.

#####

He was a large man, who carried himself majestically. His gaze was sharp and intense as he surveyed the young man standing before him.

" _Kahuna Nui_ , what is your bidding?" the young man asked, as he looked up at his leader with trusting dark eyes.

The large man smiled, and touched his acolyte on the shoulder gently. "Befriend him," he whispered sibilantly. "Befriend him; learn all you can about him." _Kahuna Nui_ – High Priest – smiled again, and closed his eyes momentarily, mentally bestowing upon the young man before him the wisdom of Pelè. "Tell him nothing at all, _Ukali_ ," _Kahuna Nui_ continued, in a low voice. "Your only task right now, the only thing required of you by Pelè, is your friendship. Perhaps later, though...Do you understand?"

"Yes, _Kahuna Nui_ ," the young _ukali_ agreed, "As you will…."

As the young man stood and walked away, _Kahuna Nui_ smiled.

"Soon, _Akua Wahine_ ," he whispered. "Very soon…."

And then he, too, turned and walked away.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you to Cherylann and Max2013 for the comments.

 **A Fiery December**

By

EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 9

Frank remained motionless, straining to hear the conversation between the boys. For several moments he stayed still, trying to make out the rest of their words. He watched them sharply, dark eyes keenly alert on their actions as they continued to push at each other. _If they're partners, working together, they don't seem to look or act much like it! I wonder if they're pretending, just goofing around – or trying to show off for anyone who might be watching them? If so, they're liable to get the attention of any police officers who happen by!_

 _And what a stupid place to talk about something – well, whatever it was!_ Frank continued his musings. _There_ _are_ _police officers everywhere around here now, and they could easily be overheard at any time!_

Well, he had to admit, most of the police were in seminars right at the moment, but still…it was very strange, that these guys would risk it… _if_ they were actually up to no good, as it seemed they were….

"Frank?" A soft voice and a soft touch on his arm recalled him to his surroundings, as Megan rolled over, looked up at him and smiled, and gently stroked one finger along his wrist.

"Hey, baby." Frank smiled down at her for a moment, then leaned close. "Listen, I just overheard something kind of odd…." Softly, he repeated the strange conversation as best he could remember it.

She listened in frowning silence; when he finished recounting the boys' words, she sat up. "Let's get out of the sun for a little bit," she said clearly, and reached for her long-sleeved cover-up. "I burn pretty easily – curse of being a redhead!"

Frank followed her lead, and pulled on his t-shirt. They gathered up their belongings, turned in their boards at the nearby stall, and headed back toward the hotel, walking hand in hand…and now that they were in no danger of being overheard, quietly discussing the disturbing conversation Frank had eavesdropped on.

"Could it have just been a prank?" Megan ventured. "There were other people on the beach…might have been friends of theirs….Maybe they were just trying to have some fun…get a rise out of them?"

"I don't know." Frank shook his head doubtfully. "Threatening to shoot someone or cut someone's throat seems a little overboard for a prank. Maybe I heard them wrong…"

"That's possible, I suppose." The little redhead tilted her head and briefly flashed her dimple. "But I've never known you to mishear things before, not when you were trying to hear them, anyway…so why would you start now?"

Frank laughed. "I don't know, baby. Water in my ears?"

They walked around a corner and began to go up the inclined path that led to the hotel. Dismissing for the moment the troubling incident, both Frank and Megan paused momentarily to admire the view of the luxuriant hotel grounds.

"Flowers, flowers, flowers," Megan chanted softly. "Look at all the colors! All the beautiful flowers, all for me!" She smiled impishly up at her tall boyfriend. "They are all for me, you know…put here just for me!"

"I know," he said agreeably. "I'll pick one and put it in your hair, how's that? You'll look beautiful with tropical flowers in your hair." He dropped a brief kiss on the top of her auburn curls. "You look beautiful without tropical flowers in your hair too."

"You're supposed to be admiring the flowers," she chided, giggling.

Frank gave a perfunctory glance to the vegetation. "They're really pretty," he conceded, "but you know what? In my considered opinion, they aren't the prettiest things in the immediate area!" He pulled her close and kissed her again, lightly, then wrapped an arm about her waist and steered her up the path.

"Watch out for sharp shells," he warned, a moment later. Both of them were barefoot, their sandals draped over their shoulders along with their beach towels. The path was mostly large rocks and sand, but occasionally a smaller rock or shell protruded. They slowed down, watching where they stepped, then paused for a moment to admire their surroundings once more.

Megan caught her breath in a soft gasp of astonishment, as a beautiful blue butterfly flittered towards them and daringly alighted directly on Frank's nose! Involuntarily jerking back, Frank crinkled his nose at the tickling sensation, and then sneezed. The butterfly took off, heading towards a flowering shrub nearby, and Frank laughed.

"I wish I'd had a camera!" Megan cried. "No one will ever believe what just happened!"

"Baby, I am so glad you didn't have a camera!" Frank replied, grinning ruefully. "I can just imagine what some of the guys would say if they saw that…much less what Joe would say! I'd be known as 'Butterfly Boy' in no time!"

Megan let her eyelashes flutter in imitation of the departed butterfly's wings. "I can't imagine a more charming butterfly boy than you," she purred throatily, and stretched upwards to kiss his cheek.

Frank blushed, but leaned down to brush his lips against hers. "If that's the kind of response I get, I may have to arrange for more butterflies to land on me," he murmured.

"You might try smearing yourself with honey…" she suggested, trying to look wicked – but not succeeding very well. Frank elevated one dark eyebrow, considering the various possibilities of _that_ remark.

They walked slowly towards the elevators, knowing that they would have to part ways to change for dinner, and rode up to their floor, silent now…parting reluctantly at the doors to their respective rooms.

"Oh baby…" Frank broke the silence as he pulled Megan tightly against him and kissed her yet again. "I wish we were here – in this place – alone!" he whispered into her hair, and hugged her, hard. "Just you and me!"

And then he hastily released her, and went into his room.

#####

"You know—" Joe opened the door to their room, nearly an hour later, and entered like a small whirlwind, slamming the door behind him. "That seminar wasn't so bad! I didn't know Dad was such a good teacher, you know?"

Frank, who had had time to shower, dry his hair, get dressed for dinner, and lie down on his bed for a 30-minute power nap while waiting for his brother, reached for a pillow and tossed it in Joe's direction. "Idiot," he said fondly, "He's been teaching us our whole lives! How could you not know he's a good teacher?"

Joe, retrieving two pillows from his own bed, threw them at Frank, and nailed him neatly with both, despite his brother's trying to duck out of the way. "Idiot, huh? Same genes run in you, ya know!"

Declining to get mussed up, Frank didn't return fire. The two boys grinned at each other, affection evident on both their faces, and Joe sat down on his bed.

"Dad said we're supposed to meet him and Mom for dinner – we're going to a luau on the beach, that the hotel puts on!" the younger Hardy announced happily.

Frank grinned at that – spending time on a Hawaiian beach at a luau sounded good to him! "When's it supposed to start?"

Joe flopped backwards to lie flat on the bed, his feet still on the floor. "Seven…until whenever we get done," he replied.

Deciding that he could dress a little more casually for a luau, Frank began to look through the dresser drawers and the closet. He decided on his one Hawaiian-print shirt and a pair of blue shorts, then changed into them, carefully hanging up the slacks and polo shirt he had previously worn.

Joe watched him, frowning slightly. "Did you steal that shirt from me?"

Frank looked down at himself. "No," he said finally, " I RECLAIMED it from you! I liberated it from you! It was mine to begin with…remember?"

Joe dismissed that with a wave of one hand. "Vanessa likes that shirt on me," he announced. "She says it brings out the blue in my eyes."

The older boy rolled his eyes at this. "Joe, you have six shirts like this. It's not like you need mine – my only one – to add to your collection!"

Muttering things best left unheard, Joe pulled out a similar shirt from his own things, and put it on, along with a pair of shorts. He went into the bathroom to comb his hair, then popped his head back out. "Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something…did you hear about the car theft earlier?"

Frank shook his head. "No, didn't hear anything. What happened?"

"After we split up, after lunch, Vanessa and I were nearly flattened in the parking lot, by a Mercedes. It turns out that the car belonged to one of the police officers here on the Big Island, and someone stole it from the parking lot…whew, was he ticked off! Anyway, I talked to Chief Pauahi about it, and he said that a car theft ring seems to have developed here."

"That seems strange," Frank commented. "There's nowhere for the cars to go…here on an island. Nowhere that they won't be found, anyway."

Joe nodded his agreement. "You're right, and that's what Chief Pauahi says, too. It doesn't seem to be a very cost-effective scheme – but still, the cars are missing, and the police haven't been able to find them. In fact, until this afternoon, there hadn't been any witnesses to the thefts."

"Now there's you and Vanessa," Frank observed.

"Yup. Although," Joe admitted, "we didn't get a good look at the guys in the car. Just an impression of dark hair and dark eyes – pretty much like people from Hawaii!"

"That's a BIG help," Frank snorted. "But you know, Joe…I think I overheard something this afternoon, when Megan and I were on the beach. These two guys arguing over something – one of them said that the other was going to get them 'caught.' And the second one…." He described the threatening gestures he'd seen. "Until I saw that, I didn't think too much about it. And I sure didn't know what they could be talking about. Now, though…now, I wonder if it could have something to do with the car thefts?"

"Possible," Joe nodded. "And if you can remember what they look like, or if you see them again, we can search them out later – maybe follow them, see if we can figure out where the cars are being hidden. Until then, though…" Joe grinned wickedly. "Until then, I intend on having a lot of fun on the beach at the luau tonight. Moonlight, firelight, roasting food, and a beautiful girl at my side! You couldn't ask for more, could you?"

Frank chuckled. "I'm glad Vanessa made it onto that list somewhere."

###

Close to seven p.m., the boys met up with their parents and girlfriends, and the six headed down to the beach, where the luau was being held. The traditional _kalua_ pig roasting in its _imu_ , or underground pit, was sending forth succulent aromas, and tables were loaded down with platters of chicken, salmon, purple-hued sweet potatoes, rice, and fresh fruit salads.

Joe threw back his head and sniffed appreciatively. "Mmmm!"

They were given fresh flower leis to wear, and shown where they could sit – a choice of either on mats on the ground, or more conventionally at tables – and then invited to join in the pre-dinner festivities, which included Hawaiian arts and crafts, trying their hands at weaving palm fronds, or taking part in a hula lesson!

"I want to try that!" Vanessa said, and moved towards the dancers as if pulled by a magnet. Megan followed, waving a 'see you later' back at Frank. Laura and Fenton wandered off to admire some of the handicrafts displayed.

"Let's watch 'em," Joe invited softly, indicating their girlfriends with a tilt of his blonde head. Frank was swift to agree. The girls were worth watching!

Dressed in long, light skirts and halter tops, their feet bare, Vanessa and Megan blended in with their instructors more than some of the other tourists, although their coloring pronounced them definitely not native islanders!

Frank's eyes were riveted to Megan as one of the Hawaiian women demonstrated how she should position her hands, how she should move her hips and undulate with the rhythm of the music being played. Megan glanced over at him once or twice, her aqua eyes sparkling with delight as she continued to try to master the moves of the hula.

"Vanessa's doing great," Joe commented, grinning as he watched his girlfriend, who was working with another of the dancers.

"Megan's doing just as well as Vanessa," Frank retorted. The girls were obviously having the times of their lives…and the boys were enjoying the show!

"Howzit, _brah_?" A new voice interrupted their pleasant pastime, and the Hardys looked up. Four young men, locals by the look, were approaching. "We got room for more players…you wanna play some beach volleyball?" one of them invited.

Joe and Frank exchanged glances, both immediately interested. "Just a minute," Joe said, and hurried off to confer with Vanessa. When he returned, he was smiling. "They want to practice the hula," he reported, "and they don't mind if we go play volleyball."

The six of them split into teams, three on a side. Frank and Joe found themselves on opposing teams, and were quickly embroiled in an all-out, vicious game! They'd played beach volleyball in Tahoe, but that had been with other tourists like themselves. This was more like undeclared war! The island players were fierce, and had some ferocious spikes in their arsenal – ones that both the boys from the mainland were hard put to defend!

"You guys are a lot better than we are," Frank admitted to one of the boys on his team, a young man named Jarrod, as a game ended.

The third person on their team, who had introduced himself by saying "Call me Quint. It's not my real name – that's Hawaiian, and hard to pronounce – but Quint's the closest translation!" overheard the comment and laughed. "We play several hours a day, _brah_. Practice that much, you get good at it. And beach volleyball's harder than the kind you play on a court – you got to move through the sand, and that's not easy!"

"That's for sure!" Joe put in. "My legs are already sore…and I know I've worked out harder than I do at practice during football season!"

"You did good, though," Jarrod complimented, and slapped his back as they walked back to have dinner. Although the boys weren't hotel guests, apparently they were managing to slide surreptitiously in and share in the luau's food!

Megan and Vanessa were with Fenton and Laura, apparently introducing two lovely-looking Hawaiian girls to them. As Frank and Joe joined them, they were included in the introductions. Evidently the Hawaiian dancers and the beach volleyball teams were already acquainted.

"This is Akemi, and this is Jasmin," Vanessa said, "our dance instructors! Girls, Frank and Joe Hardy." She grinned, and winked at Joe. "Our Significant Others."

Megan nestled against Frank and hugged him. "How did the volleyball game go?" she asked.

"Joe's team is ahead, two games to one," Frank admitted ruefully. "And the games were only won by two points, each time." He eyed his new acquaintances with respect. "They've got to be the most brutal volleyball players we've ever tried to play with!"

Joe laughed. "You should have seen it, Red…Frank made some really artful dives into the sand—"

"You were face-down in the sand more than once, yourself," Frank commented mildly, at which all the boys laughed.

"You did okay for _haoles_ ," Quint acknowledged. "Let's get some food, huh?"

They heaped their plates with the delicious luau food, and sat down on woven mats together – the Hardys, their girls, the four local boys, and Jasmin and Akemi. When they had progressed to dessert – coconut cake and _haupia_ , a coconut-flavored cross between pudding and Jell-o, the evening's entertainment began.

First came a brief history of the settling of the Hawaiian Islands, telling how the Polynesians had set out across the ocean and traveled in their outrigger canoes. Then there was a description of some of the Hawaiian gods and goddesses, which featured Pelè, whose home, the volcano Kilauea , was right there on the Big Island. Then came an exhibition by fire-knife dancers, who lit their torches and began to twirl them around in bright arcs, tossing them carelessly into the air and catching them again…seemingly without effort!

Frank, Joe, Megan and Vanessa were wide-eyed with wonder as they watched the skilled fire-knife dancers, marveling at the brilliant display, 'ohh-ing' and 'ahh-ing' breathlessly.

"Oh! His headdress!" Megan squealed involuntarily once, and jumped, sure that the flaming baton was going to catch one of the dancers' beautiful headpieces on fire. Fortunately, the dancer caught it before it landed, jumping back slightly and catching the baton in one upraised hand.

The six islanders sitting with them laughed. "He knows what he's doing; he's never torched it yet," Akemi said. "Although that was closer than usual, I'll admit!" Megan blushed slightly, glad it was fairly dark. She had nearly upended her plate into her lap.

"That was brilliant!" Vanessa exclaimed, when one set of dancers paused and a new group prepared to take their places. "So beautiful, too! Can you imagine how long it must take to learn to do that – without burning yourself?"

"It takes a long time," Quint agreed, "Kids can apprentice early to learn, usually with one of the current performers…and yes, they can get burnt…but of course, they don't start off with burning torches! They start with plain sticks, and learn the method that way. They don't graduate to actually juggling fire until much later."

Frank had been sitting very quietly, and looked rather pale in the soft glow of the Tiki torches and the moonlight. He watched the dancers move with their fire-batons, and swallowed nervously as they made the fire obey them…bent it to their wills. Finally, shivering, he got to his feet and walked away.

Megan stood also, and hurried after him, clutching at his arm. "Frank? What's wrong? Where are you going?"

He stopped and stared at her…and then looked back at the blazing fires, a haunted expression in his eyes.

"I…don't know," he said, finally. "I'm sorry, Megan. You stay here. I…I think I'm going to take a little walk."

And then he turned from her and walked away.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, BMSH and Max2013, for leaving feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By

EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 10

Megan watched Frank depart, torn between her desire to follow and find out what was troubling him, and her wish to do as he'd requested, and stay at the luau.

What had happened? The expression on Frank's face, like a man haunted by demons, troubled her – frightened her – very much.

For Megan, watching the fire had been delightful – beautiful and mesmerizing, and nothing to alarm anyone. Why had it bothered Frank? But then she remembered: that fearful day back in Bayport, in September. The day she'd nearly burned to death, along with the bell tower at their school. And before that, the fire they had escaped when she had been held captive by Ted Crowley. She wondered, now, if Frank was remembering those times and how close he'd come to losing her.

The memory made up her mind for her, and she raced after her boyfriend, following him up the path towards the hotel, away from the luau on the beach. When she caught up to him, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop, tugging him close.

"Frank," she said softly, "You know…I am all right. That fire isn't going to hurt me at all."

He stared down at her, confusion on his face for a few moments. Then he smiled and nodded, tenderly stroking back her wavy hair and then cupping her face in one hand. He kissed her gratefully, then stepped back.

"I know. I know. It just hits me, sometimes. Bad flashback, you know? Anyway, Baby, I want you to have fun…why don't you go on back to the party? You can enjoy it for both of us. I'm going to take a walk to clear my head…then I'll be back, I promise."

Red-gold curls danced as Megan shook her head decidedly. "If you're going, then I'm going…. Unless you really don't want me…" she finished uncertainly.

"Oh Baby…" Frank shook his head too. "I want you…Lord, I want you everywhere I go, it's that simple. I just didn't want to spoil your fun."

"You really think I'd have any fun down there, knowing you were being miserable by yourself?" she scoffed. "I'd rather be with you than down on the beach, anyway."

"You convinced me." Frank tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and they set out up the path to the hotel, once more.

#####

"What happened?" Quint asked, as he watched first Frank, then Megan, hurry past the bonfire. "Did we say something wrong?"

Joe shook his head. "No, you didn't say anything wrong – and I don't know what's up, but Red – Megan, that is – will take care of it, whatever it is." He'd noticed that Frank hadn't said anything to anyone while they were watching the fire dancers – abnormally quiet, even for Frank – and he wondered if he should follow Frank himself…and then Megan had given him a brief wave, and walked off with his brother.

 _Let Megan handle it._

Joe settled back on the mat, and pulled Vanessa close, wrapping her in his arms. Jasmin and Akemi left to take part in the hula demonstration being performed for the crowd, while Jarrod and Quint and the other two boys yipped and shouted encouragement to their friends.

The beach was beginning to contain scattered groups of people now, rather than a solid crowd; mainland and Japanese and European tourists mixing with Islanders in little clumps as they became acquainted.

Vanessa joined in the cheers for her two new friends as they were introduced and took their places; as the sensual music began and the hula dancers began their performance, she leaned back against Joe and rested her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms about her tightly and pressed his cheek against her silken hair.

The dancers were good…very good. Joe smiled, nuzzling his girlfriend's hair as they watched and enjoyed the show. Occasionally, the dancers were joined by the fire-knife dancers again, and would weave their way expertly around the spinning circles of flame, twirling and undulating, as graceful and free-flowing as the flames themselves.

Joe lifted one hand and turned Vanessa's face towards him. The flames of the fire dancers and the bonfire were dancing in her blue-gray eyes. As he lowered his mouth towards hers, he glanced over her shoulder – and to his slight shock, caught sight of his parents, seated a short distance away…and saw Fenton tilt his wife's face up for a kiss of their own!

Joe smiled and closed his eyes, a little embarrassed at having caught his parents in such an intimate moment…and then he turned his attention to his own kiss, and promptly forgot about anyone else's romantic interludes! Reluctantly, he ended the kiss and eased the embrace. He wondered what it was about this place and setting that made him feel so romantic. He didn't have a clue, but there was no mistaking the feeling!

Quint and Jarrod hooted softly, laughing; Quint muttered something about 'PDAs,' and Joe lazily kicked sand in the direction of the other boy's legs. Quint returned the favor, flinging a handful of sand towards Joe, and Joe pulled back, sheltering Vanessa. Stern looks and reproving comments from the adults around them stopped the sand-fight from escalating any further.

###

Later, when the performance was winding down, Jarrod asked, "What are you doing tomorrow? Do you have any plans?"

Joe grinned. "We'll be working…we're not just here vacationing. My father is leading the seminar for the police officers, here at the hotel, and we're assisting. When we're done with that…well, it depends on what my folks, and Frank and Megan, want to do. What did you have in mind?"

"Thought we could give you the two-bit tour of the local area, _brah_ ," Jarrod offered. "We could take you to places you wouldn't normally get to see, on the regular tourist circuit. If you're interested, of course."

"How long you have to work for your dad?" Quint wanted to know. "And when could you let us know?"

"Give me a phone number where I can reach you," Joe proposed, "and I'll call you as soon as I know the schedule for tomorrow a little better." He stood, pulling Vanessa up too, and they brushed stray bits of sand from their legs and clothes.

"No need for that; we'll stop by," Quint said casually.

"Okay, that works," Joe agreed. "I hope we can get together tomorrow; if we can't then, I know we'll have free time after the seminar is over."

"Great!" Jarrod beamed. "I can't wait!"

The boys headed up the path toward the hotel parking lot. Joe turned, seeking his parents…and grinned when he saw them heading off down the beach, arms wrapped about each other, and each obviously absorbed in what the other was saying. "Lovebirds," he murmured, indicating them to Vanessa, and then took her hand to lead her along the path to the hotel.

They found Frank and Megan at an outdoor ping-pong table, exchanging what seemed at first to be relatively mild passes of the bouncing white ball, using their paddles gently and without rancor. As the game progressed, however, the hits became more vicious, until Megan hit a particularly nasty swipe that sent the ball bouncing off the very far corner edge of the table on Frank's right, causing him to miss it.

Frank grinned as he ran to retrieve the ball, and Joe exchanged a mischievous twinkle with his girlfriend.

"Wow, bro, slowing down in your old age and getting beaten by a girl, huh?" Joe sniped; the comment earned him a swat on the back of the head from Vanessa. "HEY! No hitting the blonde guy!"

Vanessa glared. "Listen, blonde guy," she said tartly, "This GIRL could beat you any day of the week, if you had the nerve to take her on!"

"Whoa, whoa, babe…." Joe raised his hands in immediate surrender. "Girls are number one, no arguments from me at all!" He watched in satisfaction as Frank managed to win a point from Megan on the next pass. "Way to go, bro!"

"Who taught you how to play, Meg?" Vanessa asked her friend.

"My dad," Megan replied, her aqua eyes glistening. "Since I was small. We just played for fun, though. But Mom and I got rid of the table after...Haven't played in…a while."

Vanessa nodded, understanding what the other girl had left unsaid. She watched as Frank served the ball again, hitting it with deceptive gentleness towards Megan. There were a few equally gentle passes back and forth…and then once more, the hits became sharper, and landed more angularly on the sides of the table. Finally, Frank misjudged a hit, and overshot Megan's end of the table, giving her another point. With a triumphant cackle of laughter, she set herself to receive another serve.

"Frank, Jarrod and Quint have offered to give us a private tour of the local part of the island," Joe commented, watching the battle going on. "You and Megan interested?"

Frank didn't answer, apparently concentrating on his play. Megan sent the ball skidding over the net and watched it land at a sharp angle on Frank's side of the table. "I think it sounds like fun," she said.

Frank smacked an arching shot that slammed the ball down just in front of his girlfriend.

She tried to return it, but frowned when she managed to only get the side of the paddle on the ball. It careened sideways and landed on the floor, still on her side of the net. "Darn!" The piquant face curved into a pout as Megan picked up the ball and tossed it back over the net to Frank.

"Want to do it?" Frank spared a quick glance at his younger brother, and consequently missed the next volley. "Rats!" He grabbed the ball before it could bounce off into the grass. "I'm okay with it."

"Yeah, kinda. But we have to decide if we want to go with Jarrod and Quint tomorrow after we finish for the day, or wait and go after the seminar is over with. When Mom and Dad get back from their walk, we can ask them what they had planned….Or maybe you girls know – Were you and Mom going to go shopping?"

Both Megan and Vanessa nodded. "Yeah, Laura wants to go shopping," Megan said, dimpling. "And I'd like to start looking for souvenirs and something for Mom. Would you two mind doing part of the session together? Then Van and I can cover the other part, depending on when Laura wants to go."

Frank attempted to look reluctant, but it was spoiled by the amusement in his dark eyes. He exchanged a mockingly mournful glance with his younger brother before he finally nodded in agreement. "All right," he said, "I SUPPOSE I can work with Joe, if I HAVE to. But you know what a trial that's going to be!"

"Hey!" Joe protested. He found a stray ping-pong ball on the other side of the table and tossed it at Frank's head.

Frank deflected it with his paddle and laughed. "Sure, Baby, you ladies go ahead and have fun supporting the local economy! We can do stuff together after the seminar is over. The question is, though, what am I going to do with this big lug while you girls are busy?"

"We can look into that car theft thing," Joe suggested, a glint in his blue eyes. "What do you think?"

"I suppose so," Frank shrugged. "If we come up with any good ideas about what to do. Taking into consideration that none of the local police are going to be amused by our unwanted interference, do you have any ideas about where we should be looking?"

"I think we should check out some of the warehouses by the docks," Joe answered promptly. "I'll bet that's where the cars are being hidden – and maybe we can spot those two guys Van and I saw, that stole the Mercedes today!"

"And you don't think that the police might have checked these already?" Frank scoffed. "Ah well, it's as good an idea as any, and a place to start." He tucked his paddle beneath the net. "Baby, let's call it a draw for tonight, okay? I think I'm still on Eastern time; I'm beat!"

The four of them walked to the elevators and ascended to their floor. With more than a few kisses exchanged – and admonishments from both Vanessa and Megan to be careful the next day – they parted, murmuring "See you at breakfast," and went to their rooms.

###

As the boys prepared for bed, Joe kept mulling over the proposed sleuthing expedition. "Frank," he asked, leaning out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, "do you think we'll find anything tomorrow…or do you have a better idea?"

"No, I don't have a better idea," Frank admitted, "and I also have no idea whether we'll find anything or not!" He hung up his Hawaiian-print shirt and started folding up the shorts he'd been wearing that evening. He frowned and paused, patting at the back pocket. Then he looked into the small bag he'd used at the beach, which Joe had brought up for him after the luau, taking everything out of it to search thoroughly. Finally, he checked the clothing he'd been wearing before he'd changed for the luau.

"What's the matter? You lose something?" Joe inquired.

"Did you see anything lying around when you picked up this bag?" Frank responded to the query with one of his own.

"No – it was just sitting there, under that bush where you left it. What's wrong?"

Frank looked over at him and sighed. "My wallet is missing!"


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 **A Fiery December**

By

EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 11

Joe, who had just seated himself on his bed, looked at his brother a moment, disturbed at the news Frank had just laid on him. "Your wallet, huh," was all he said, however, then got up and moved to join Frank. He picked up the small bag, and went through it carefully, searching all the pockets – just as Frank had done – to make sure the wallet hadn't been overlooked.

"I already looked," Frank reminded him.

"Just making sure." Joe set down the bag and headed for the dresser. "Let's look through these," he suggested. "Maybe you just thought you took it with you, and actually stashed it somewhere in here." Together, they searched the dresser drawers, the nightstand drawers, the shallow drawer where things like phone books and hotel directories were kept. No wallet appeared.

"I know I had it with me," Frank insisted, even as they pawed through the contents of the drawers. "I remember, I grabbed it off the edge of the dresser and tossed it in that bag, right before we left for the luau. That's where I saw it last, when I put it in. I didn't take it out again; there was no reason to, down on the beach. Even the drinks were free, at the luau, and I didn't tip the bartender," he grinned. "Do you suppose it fell out somewhere, and someone might have turned it in?" he said hopefully.

"Maybe…." Joe didn't sound too confident. "Someone might have found it – but that doesn't mean it was turned in. And after all, it was just sitting there under the bushes when you left...anyone might have opened it and taken the wallet, without being noticed!"

"Yeah, but...my camera's still here. Seems like if someone was going to take my wallet, they'd take the camera as well," Frank sighed. He scrambled into shorts and a t-shirt and sandals. "I'll be right back; I'm just going to check with the front desk," he informed Joe, who nodded his understanding.

"Good luck," the younger Hardy said, climbing into bed as Frank left the room.

The night clerk on duty in the lobby listened sympathetically to Frank's tale, but shook his head doubtfully when Frank asked whether anyone had turned it in.

"I don't think any were turned in tonight, but I'll look." He disappeared into a back room, evidently where the Lost and Found items were kept, returning a moment later with three men's wallets. Two were completely dissimilar to Frank's; one was close – but wasn't the Hardy boy's.

"Thanks for trying; I'll check back tomorrow and see if it's turned up." Frank left the lobby, trying to think what might have happened to his wallet. _Maybe it fell out of my stuff and Mom or Dad saw it, and picked it up…put it with their stuff for safe-keeping, and forgot to mention it to me._ It didn't seem all that likely, but it was worth asking, all the same. He and Joe had gone to play volleyball, after all, and while Frank had left the bag near his parents, he hadn't given much extra thought to his wallet. _Stupid, Hardy; you know WAY better than that!_

Hoping that they were back from their walk on the beach, Frank tapped on his parents' door. He heard muffled voices from inside the suite, but no one came to the door. He tapped a second time.

After a few more moments, the door was opened by Fenton, flushed and tying on a white hotel robe. "Frank! Something wrong, son?"

Frank flushed too, surmising that he'd interrupted something private. "I'm sorry to bother you, Dad – but I was wondering if you or Mom had picked up my wallet, down at the luau. I can't seem to locate it."

"No, I didn't, and I don't think your mother did—" Fenton turned his head, speaking back into the room. "Laura, did you see Frank's wallet anywhere, down on the beach?"

"No, I didn't," Laura said.

Fenton turned back to his elder son. "Where did you have it last?"

"I put it in my little beach bag before I went down to the luau," Frank explained, "but I left it under a bush when Megan and I went for a walk, and Joe brought it up to the room. I noticed it was gone when I emptied out the bag. I already checked with the clerk at the front desk, and he looked in Lost and Found….If it fell out on the beach, it may be totally gone, stolen or buried in the sand. And it's too dark now, to check."

"Very true," his father agreed. "Well, I suggest you call hotel security tonight, and your credit card company, to report a lost card, but leave the rest until tomorrow morning. If the wallet is stolen, we can get everything replaced." He smiled at Frank in commiseration. "Were you carrying much cash?"

Frank shook his head. "No, only about ten dollars. I have most of my traveler's checks in the little safe in our room; I wasn't intending on spending any money tonight."

"That's good. Hold on, I'll get you the number for the credit card company." Fenton disappeared into the hotel room, returning shortly with a small piece of paper with a 1-800 number on it. "Here's the number to report lost or stolen cards." He grinned a little. "You DO have the number of the card written down somewhere, don't you?"

"Yeah, Dad, I do. You've taught us well. Thanks….Sorry to bother you. Goodnight."

Frank went to his room, and found Joe had already fallen asleep, but had left the lights on so that Frank wouldn't have to stumble around in the dark. Frank, blessing the person who had installed phone jacks in the bathroom, took the phone in there, so as not to awaken his slumbering brother, and called hotel security. He reported the missing wallet, promised to fill out a report the next day, and agreed that he would talk to Chief Pauahi if it was necessary. Then he called the credit card company, and worked his way through the automated phone-options to make his report.

Finally, mission accomplished, and annoyed but sleepy, Frank settled into bed. He thought he would stay awake and worry about the situation…but only a few minutes later, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

#####

Morning came all too early, for both Frank and Joe. Having agreed to take on the afternoon shift at the seminar, neither one of them had to be up early – that is, unless they wanted to eat breakfast with their girlfriends…and parents.

Since they both _did_ wish to eat breakfast with said girlfriends – and parents, of course – they were up sooner than they'd really desired to be. Keeping conversation to a minimum, both boys showered, shaved and dressed, then descended to the hotel's coffee shop for a 'real' breakfast, as opposed to the Continental breakfast they would have gotten at the seminar.

The six of them gathered companionably around a large, round table. Over the clatter and bustle of eating, Frank told Megan and Vanessa what had transpired with his wallet.

"Talk about annoying," he grumbled, "now I don't have any ID, so I can't cash my traveler's checks; I don't have a way to carry money – Dad," he broke off to ask, foreseeing a large problem ahead, "what am I going to do without my driver's license, when it comes to flying back home?"

"I'll take care of that," Fenton assured him. "If necessary, I'll call Sam Radley; he can go by the house and pick up your passport, and Fed-Ex it to us. I hope, though, that it doesn't come to that," the detective went on. "Maybe it will turn up, Frank – even if you lost the cash and the credit card, if someone stole it, they might toss it without taking or destroying the license."

After he finished eating his breakfast, Frank yawned and stretched lazily. He reached for Megan's hand and smiled at her as he ran a caressing thumb along the backs of her fingers…and then released it to lay his arm across the back of her chair, against her shoulders.

"So, what are you boys doing this morning, since you're not going to be at the seminar," Laura asked her sons curiously. "Anything fun?"

"Sleeping," Joe said succinctly. "After last night, this is too early to be out of bed. I only got up so that I could have breakfast – and see you, babe," he added to Vanessa. "After I have a nap…I may sleep some more. Then, for good measure, I shall rest up before I finally make my appearance into the world."

Frank glanced around the coffee shop and raised an eyebrow. "And this isn't part of the world?"

"No one else is awake yet either; I figure I'm safe," Joe retorted.

Frank snorted, saying without words _Oh, really?_ And they both grinned.

They filled their parents in on the occurrences of the day before: the theft of the car and the mysterious conversation Frank had overheard on the beach, with corroboration from Megan and Vanessa, who were more than willing to supply details the boys might have omitted. Fenton and Laura listened with interest, but when they finally finished, Fenton said, with a wink at his wife:

"This is a vacation, you remember….You don't want to get too involved with a case while you're over here. You're supposed to be here to have fun, and relax…and work at the seminar, incidentally…not spend all your spare time trying to figure out who's stealing cars."

He paused to take a sip of coffee. "Still," he resumed, "if it was me, and I was going to get involved in a case like this, I think I'd check out the docks – talk to some of the dock workers; see if anyone has noticed expensive cars coming and going. Maybe I'd act as though I was interested in how cars get to the island, where they come from – and ask if people ever send cars to the mainland…that sort of thing."

"That's where we were thinking of going with the investigation," Joe said. "You know…if we were actually going to investigate anything, that is." He grinned at Frank, who returned the smile. They'd gotten the message: Fenton couldn't really condone them sticking their noses into a mystery, because of his current association with the Hawaiian police departments. At the same time, he was giving them tacit approval to do some snooping, if they were so inclined. Without words, they knew he was telling them to be both discreet and careful in their actions.

No longer tired when breakfast ended, Frank and Joe escorted Megan and Vanessa up to their room, so that the girls could dress for the seminar. Bidding them an affectionate goodbye, the boys descended to the lobby again, to request a taxi to take them to the shipping docks.

As they traveled down Kalanianaole Avenue toward the harbor, Frank and Joe admired the beautiful Hilo coastline under the morning sunlight. A splash caught Frank's attention, and watching closely, he saw a large fish leap from the water and plunge back in again. He nudged Joe and pointed, and they both chuckled when the fish – or another one – repeated the action, evidently having a morning romp.

Joe caught sight of some surfers already out on the water. "Hey, Frank – how do you match up to them?" he asked wickedly, jerking his thumb in their direction.

Frank glared half-heartedly. "One of these days I'll be at least as good as they are," he vowed, not really expecting Joe to believe him.

The taxi driver let them out – at their request – about half a mile from the harbor itself. They claimed they wanted a chance to walk and enjoy the scenery, and although the driver rolled his eyes discreetly at this – they could almost hear his thoughts regarding the strange _haole_ tourists – he didn't argue. They found a walkway that led to the harbor, and to the array of warehouses which were located nearby.

"It's a little like Bayport," Joe observed, "the docks and all, I mean. Of course, this is a lot prettier – the water's prettier. And it's warmer here!"

"It's also a lot smaller," Frank noted. "This is just a little bitty shipping point, compared to Bayport. Probably a lot of inter-island stuff, for the most part."

They wandered along leisurely, taking in the unattractive warehouses in the area, buildings which contrasted dismally with the attractive and picturesque blue water of the harbor. Two large ships were in the harbor, tied up at docks and apparently waiting to be loaded with cargo. Both of them were busy and bustling with people.

"Those two ships are big enough to carry cargo like cars," Frank murmured, indicating the cargo ships. "Wonder if they might be involved? There aren't that many around that would be able to hold them. Maybe if a ship's captain was getting a cut on the take after the cars are sold, he'd transport them for free, if he was already going to the mainland."

"Dunno," Joe shrugged. "I suppose the best bet would be to do what Dad suggested – and find some people to talk to."

Frank turned from his survey of the harbor to gaze speculatively at the warehouses. "Let's split up, okay? We can cover more ground that way. You can question some of the dockworkers, and I'll do a little reconnaissance of some of the warehouses…see if I can find any trace of those missing cars."

Joe frowned slightly, and hesitated, apparently weighing the pros and cons of that plan. He could see the merits of Frank's idea, but he felt a little nervous about separating in this unfamiliar territory. Finally he decided that the plusses outnumbered the minuses. "Okay," he agreed, "but meet me back here in 30 minutes. No longer, right? That ought to give you plenty of time for snooping."

Frank looked like he was going to protest for a moment, but then nodded. "All right, 30 minutes," he said, and immediately turned and strolled away towards the nearest warehouse.

Most of the buildings, judging by the names on the outside, were used for storage of food, or furniture, or other innocuous items like that. One warehouse definitely shipped out of the islands; there were a variety of crated tropical fruits, including huge boxes of fresh pineapples. The aroma of the fruit was heavy and sweet in the warm air.

Encountering a few workers in his walk, Frank talked to them, asking a few innocent-sounding questions about shipments to the mainland, and found himself given a wealth of information – more than he wanted, or needed – about times, distances, stops along the way, and even costs – or what the employees estimated the costs were!

He continued to saunter along, inspecting each warehouse as closely as he could while still trying to look merely casually curious…and then halted abruptly, realizing that he was actually seeing something he had been looking for! Glancing through a window, he saw a large, tarpaulin-covered shape on the floor…one that seemed suspiciously large. _It's not really car-shaped,_ he mused, _but maybe the car thieves surrounded it with boxes first, before covering it, to disguise it!_

Stealthily, he ducked inside the warehouse, moving carefully and quietly. He could hear conversation at the other end of the building; men talking in low tones, and the occasional _clang!_ of metal striking metal. It could mean anything…or nothing.

Frank continued moving as silently as he could, staying close to the dirty floor of the warehouse and trying to keep in the shadows as much as possible. He jumped, once, and froze for a few, heart-stopping moments, when something loud clicked on and roared to life – and then as cooler air began to waft down on him, he relaxed, realizing that it had merely been the air conditioning system cycling on.

Blessing the loud noise of the air conditioner, since it obscured any sounds _he_ might make, he neared the mysterious shrouded object and reached to lift an edge of the tarpaulin

The movement of the tarp caused a reaction – one of the stacked crates beside him began to rock unsteadily back and forth, and then the one beneath it. Frank had no time to move, and didn't dare to scream, as the boxes swayed dangerously for a second or two – and then began to crumple sideways…

…to land directly on Frank Hardy.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

 **A Fiery December**

By

EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 12

Joe reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wadded-up baseball cap. Grateful to have the irritating lump removed from his backside, he shook it into shape and planted it firmly on his head. It wouldn't completely conceal his telltale blonde hair, but it would make him a little less obvious. With the same intent, he tugged his shirt free from his shorts, mussing his clothing slightly so as to look just slightly less reputable. He wouldn't exactly blend in with the casual Polynesian look of the Hawaiians, but he didn't want to look as if he had no business down here on the docks, either. And it wasn't like they were all Hawaiians; it was a mixture: some looked Oriental, some Hawaiian, some definitely Caucasian. But all were strong-looking and muscled, no matter how short or tall they were.

He strolled along, whistling softly and stopping occasionally to admire the large ships in front of him, and to look them over. The stevedores were scurrying up and down gangplanks, loading smaller crates onto the ships; cranes were hefting the larger cargo up mechanically, saving the workers' backs. Joe watched intently, curious as to the workings of the mechanism. A reminiscent smile curved his lips. _This is like back in Bayport, when I was little!_

He could remember being at the harbor-side docks in Bayport when he was about six or seven. He had been fascinated – so mesmerized by the sight of a large crane, carefully picking up a package, hoisting it into the air, swiveling and then lowering it with precision to the deck of the ship, that his mother had been forced to pull on his arm, physically move him along, when it was time to go.

 _And I fussed and whined and complained_ , he thought with a grin. _I kept saying I wanted to stay just a little longer, and see the crane do it again!_ Laura hadn't allowed that – evidently there was some reason or other that staying wasn't an option, right then, although Joe couldn't recall what it might have been – but now, over a decade later, there was no one to tug at his arm and insist that he leave. Joe sighed with contentment.

"Hey, man, what're you doin' here, anyway?" A voice broke into Joe's thoughts, and he found one of the Hawaiian stevedores staring at him suspiciously. The voice was almost accusatory – a little hostile. Evidently he objected to this _malihini's_ unwarranted presence so near his ship.

Joe smiled his friendliest smile. "Watching the crane," he said, with complete honesty. "I get a real kick out of watching how it works. I was remembering how I saw something similar back home when I was little, and how fascinated I was!" _Nothing like using the absolute truth,_ he reflected; _beats making up a story, any day!_

The worker looked a little less hostile. "Where you from, then?" he inquired.

"New York state," Joe replied. "A city called Bayport – on the Atlantic coast."

"You're a long way from home, _brah_ ," the man chuckled. "How you happen to be here in Hilo?"

"My father's here on business, combined with a vacation with my family," Joe explained. "I wanted to get out and explore this morning, you know? Wander around and see different parts of Hilo. I saw the cranes," he went on with another engaging grin, "and I had to investigate!" _Another half-truth._ "Have you worked on the docks long?"

"Over 20 years," the man admitted. "It's hard work, but I like it. Keeps me in shape."

"I'm not sure I could do anything that hard," Joe admitted, with a sheepish expression. "I don't think I'd have the stamina for it."

The worker shrugged, with a slight smile. "You could do what you set your mind to, if you tried hard enough. I like it. I get to be on water most of the day – even if it does mean a lot of heaving and lifting – and it pays good, real good. So I can take time off…go on trips when I want to."

Joe nodded, trying to look interested without being too overly-inquisitive. "Do you ever go on the boats – uh, ships…when they're doing a cargo run, I mean?"

The man grinned a little and winked. "Not supposed to," he confided, "it doesn't comply with the union rules….But sometimes, yeah, if they're shorthanded on crew—"

"How long does it take to get to the mainland?"

"A few weeks, give or take a day or two," his informant said. "The old chuggers don't go very fast – the speedier ones can make it in a week; two weeks for the slower ones. More than that, if there's bad weather and you have to try and go around it."

Joe nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the ship and the continuously-working crane. "What're in the crates?" he asked, indicating the larger boxes.

"Usually huge pallets of pineapples," the man replied. "Sometimes other fruits. Coffee – a lot of coffee. Koa-wood furniture. Or people moving to the continent will have their cars and household goods – furniture and such – shipped over."

 _Cars shipped…._ Joe's ears pricked up. "Their cars? Why would they do that?" he asked. "Why bother, I mean. Isn't it awfully expensive?"

The dockworker shrugged. "Dunno, man. Probably not as expensive as buying a new car stateside. But I don't know, to be honest." He looked around, as if suddenly remembering he was supposed to be doing a job. "You'll have to excuse me, _brah_ , I gotta get back to work! Enjoy your vacation... _aloha_!"

" _Mahalo_!" Joe tried out one of the few Hawaiian words he'd picked up. "Thanks!" He watched the man return to work, and stared consideringly at the ship. _Wonder if there are cars on board already…stolen cars, not cars being legally shipped by their owners…._ He would have liked to get closer, but knew that was sheer fantasy. He wouldn't be allowed closer, no matter how excited he acted!

He checked his watch and was startled to see how much time had passed. It was time for him to meet up with Frank, and compare notes. He turned, with a last reluctant glance back at the crane, and retraced his steps to where he and Frank had parted company.

To his irritation and slight concern, Frank wasn't at their meeting place. Joe waited impatiently, wondering where he could have gone; Frank was usually punctual when it came to check-in times. _What could have delayed him?_ The possibilities were unsettling.

Joe loitered about, trying not to look too conspicuous. After waiting an extra ten minutes, growing increasingly concerned by Frank's continued absence, Joe finally wandered back into the row of warehouses; listening, watching…searching for any signs of his missing brother.

Slipping close to a window, he peeked cautiously into one of the warehouses, and saw a circle of men gathered around what seemed to be a collapsed stack of crates. A tarp was half askew, revealing several more crates beneath it. The men were grumbling and grunting with effort as they worked to right the fallen boxes.

Joe ducked hastily down as one of the workers happened to glance in his direction, and prudently stayed low for a few moments before he dared take another peek. _Where the heck is Frank, anyway?_

"Let's get out of here."

Joe nearly jumped out of his skin when the low whisper came from behind him. Whirling about, he saw Frank standing there, looking much the worse for wear. His brother's hair was tousled and dusty; his clothing was ripped in more than one place, and filthy, and worst of all, he had a nasty-looking scratch on one bare upper arm.

Frank was holding his arm gingerly, but he motioned toward the warehouse behind them, and the path leading into it. "Let's go, before they come out here looking."

Joe silently led the way, and they eventually found their way to another street, further from the docks. It was something of a hike, perhaps a half-mile or so, getting to where they could catch another taxi.

"Okay, what happened to you?" Joe demanded after they had trudged a block or two, and he knew they wouldn't be overheard.

"I was checking out that warehouse," Frank began. "I was under the tarp when those crates started to fall. I would've been crushed like a bug, but I got lucky – at the last second, the stack was caught on the crate behind me, and I managed to wiggle out from under. And then the whole stack came down, and I got hit by the corner of one when it broke open. That's how I cut my arm."

Joe shuddered. "How'd you get out without them seeing you?"

"Hid behind another stack of crates, and sneaked out when all the workers gathered around to pick up the mess," Frank explained. "Oh, by the way – the crates might have said they contained coffee…but they didn't. They contained artifacts – at least, the one that fell on top of me did. I saw a statue, made out of some kind of green stone – jade, maybe? Weird, huh?"

Joe frowned in thought. "Yeah – we're finding a lot of oddball things around here, lately."

###

The boys arrived back at the hotel feeling a little more knowledgeable about how ships' traffic worked, but without any further information that might have helped in their case. Slipping through the lobby as inconspicuously as possible, they made their way to the elevators and up to their room.

"Let's clean that up," Joe suggested, indicating the cut on Frank's arm. "Lucky thing we always lug a first-aid kit around, huh?" He dug the kit from Frank's suitcase and prodded his brother in the direction of the bathroom. Soap, water, antiseptic cream and a bandage completed the procedure.

"There." Joe smoothed the bandage down carefully. "It should heal up fine; it wasn't even bleeding any more."

"Thank you, Florence Nightingale," Frank said, with a rueful chuckle. He flexed the arm, then straightened it. It hurt a little, but was livable. "Guess this shirt is done for." He stripped off the ripped shirt and went to find another to replace it.

#####

"Frank, you with us?"

Startled, Frank blinked and refocused his gaze. He looked up and found Detective Meka Ekela looking down at him and speaking in a low voice. He realized with a start that the afternoon seminar session was over; he hastily checked the slides and was gratified to see that somehow, despite his zoning out, he had managed to keep up with his father's class. Seeing Fenton's smile and thumbs-up of approval, Frank returned the smile and began the task of shutting down the projector, glancing up at Ekela as he did so.

"Yeah, Detective, I'm fine – I guess I was just up too late last night."

"Partying already? It's not New Year's Eve until tomorrow!" Ekela teased.

"No, no…nothing as fun as that," Frank said wryly. "I lost my wallet and had to stay up to talk to hotel security about it. In fact," he went on, "I need to talk to Chief Pauahi. If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course, Frank – he's over there." The big detective motioned towards the front of the room, where Chief Pauahi was standing in a group of officers. Frank noticed that Lieutenant McCullough was among them. Genial laughs were coming from the group, indicating that they weren't talking shop – or if they were, it wasn't something serious!

Somewhat apologetically, Frank asked Pauahi if he could have a moment of his time. The Chief graciously assented, and they moved to the back of the auditorium, where Frank explained about his missing wallet.

The police chief looked surprised, but not shocked. "I'm afraid that thefts of wallets and other small valuables is the same in Hilo as it is anywhere else in the world. We may look like paradise here, but the analogy only holds so far. Unfortunately, tourists are all too easy marks in the eyes of any aspiring thief."

"I know that, sir; I just wanted to let you know about it. I've already contacted the credit card company – the only real problem is the fact that my driver's license is gone now, and I may end up having to stay here if I can't board the plane back home!" Frank joked.

Pauahi laughed at that. "Well, we can hope that whoever took your wallet will dump it with the license still inside – you might get lucky that way. I'll drop the word to keep an eye out for it, just in case."

"Thanks, Chief Pauahi; I appreciate it. I won't take any more of your time." Frank had spotted Joe talking to their father, and bidding the Chief goodbye, he moved to join them.

"You all right, Frank?" were Fenton's first words. "Joe said you ran into a little trouble this morning. Why didn't you say something earlier?"

Frank gave Joe a dirty look. Evidently his younger brother had been letting his mouth run away with him! "I'm fine, Dad," he said, smiling at his father reassuringly. "Joe practiced his first-aid techniques on me."

"Hmmm," Fenton said, apparently unconvinced. "After we get this stuff cleared up—" he indicated the detritus of the afternoon seminar, "why don't you let me take a look at it…just to check on Joe's first-aid job, of course."

"Dad, you don't need to go to all this fuss about a little scratch—"

"How about you let me decide for myself, Frank," his father returned, decisively ending the argument.

Joe, ignoring Frank's glares, smiled blandly and turned away to gather up discarded agenda sheets.

###

"Well, it doesn't look too bad," Fenton conceded, after he had inspected Frank's wound. "Just don't get careless with it, or ignore it if it starts burning or hurting worse, Frank."

"I promise." Frank held up a hand in a 'pledge' gesture.

"Why don't you boys change into something more comfortable?" their father went on, eyeing Frank and Joe's dressy seminar attire. "I think I'm going to call Sam and give him a heads-up about that passport before I change. It won't hurt to have him send it, even if your license does turn up. When the girls get back from their shopping expedition we can decide what we want to do about dinner. I'm NOT going to that statistics report dinner, that's for sure, even though I was invited!"

Gladly acquiescing with their father's suggestion, Frank and Joe went to their room to change. Joe scrambled into a tank top and shorts; Frank decided to opt for a shirt with sleeves, to conceal the bandage on his arm. They both added comfortable tennis shoes to their ensembles, and then rejoined Fenton to await the return of Laura, Vanessa and Megan.

#####

To the Hardys' surprise, they were invited to dinner by Lieutenant Dylan McCullough early that evening.

"I'm afraid that I'm skipping the stats reports," he confessed, when he called Fenton. "I've sat through too many, and they're always the epitome of boring. Unless I was contributing a report," he added with a laugh. "So please – won't you take pity on me and join me for dinner?"

When they met in the lobby, Dylan announced that he'd tentatively made reservations for them at a restaurant only a block or two from the hotel, and the seven of them walked companionably through the soft tropical evening. They found that a group of seven didn't get challenged much on the sidewalks, especially as both Dylan and Fenton walked with that 'don't mess with me,' attitude that seemed to be inherent to them.

Over appetizers, the handsome police lieutenant effortlessly charmed Laura, Vanessa and Megan, and he entertained them all with stories of his time with Hawaii 5-O, and some of his more interesting cases. Fenton countered with a few episodes of his own, with the NYPD – some of which only Laura had heard before.

Listening avidly, Joe found his attitude towards Lt. Dylan McCullough mellowing; despite the man's insistence that _kids_ – i.e., people his and Frank's ages – shouldn't get involved in investigating cases, the man was intelligent, strong, and was very evidently relentless in his pursuit of criminals. Just like their father. Just like Frank and himself.

"I don't miss living on the mainland," McCullough was saying now, "and I certainly don't miss living in California! Hawaii has crime, of course, but nothing to the extent of California. The sleepless nights I spent there, working on cases, or worrying about working on cases…well," he grinned ruefully, "it doesn't bear repeating. Enough of that! You four are all in college, right?" He glanced at the teens inquiringly. "What are you majoring in?"

"Criminal justice," Frank said promptly.

"Criminal investigations," Joe chimed in.

"Graphic arts, with an emphasis on computer work," Vanessa smiled.

Megan hesitated. McCullough cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. "What about you, Miss Megan?" he asked, smiling.

"I started out in criminal justice," she admitted, "but I'm considering switching majors. I just haven't decided exactly what to switch to, yet."

"You've got time," Dylan assured her. "You boys going into law enforcement when you graduate?" he asked the Hardys.

Both of them shook their heads. "Dad seems to think he needs a couple of partners," Frank grinned. "Hardy Investigations is going to expand."

"Nothing against the police," Joe said, a trifle smugly, "but we've already solved quite a few cases on our own…usually without the help of the local law!"

Fenton cleared his throat softly, and cast his younger son a slightly disapproving look – with some paternal pride mixed in. Joe grinned at him.

Dylan shook his head. "Not trying to insult you or anything, but I just can't condone letting kids get involved with criminal cases. It's just too darned dangerous!"

"We don't always get involved on purpose. Sometimes the cases find us, rather than us trying to get mixed in," Frank said calmly. "But of course, there are times…."

He let the sentence trail off, not offering any further comments. The fortuitous arrival of their dinners just at that moment provided a welcome distraction, and conversation lapsed while everyone paid attention to the delicious food.

They were just finishing dessert when light musical tones emanated from Lt. McCullough's pocket. He hastily pulled the cell phone out and flipped it open. "McCullough!" A few short sentences later, the police detective was rising to his feet and offering apologies:

"I'm afraid I have to go – don't worry about the bill; it's covered. I'll see you tomorrow at the seminar; I'm looking forward to it. Charming evening, lovely company, ladies! _Aloha_!"

And he was gone.

"Wonder what he's up to?" Vanessa smiled, looking after the handsome police officer. The others were exchanging glances too, wondering the same thing.

"Police business," Fenton said. "Lord, am I glad I'm not in that rat race anymore!"

"We're finished; let's walk back to the hotel," Laura suggested, pushing back her chair.

When they arrived back at their hotel, Joe suggested trying to find something they all could do together – and was a little surprised at his parents' reaction.

"I think we'll pass on that, honey," Laura said with a soft smile.

"I'm in Hawaii with a beautiful woman and I want to spend a romantic evening with her…alone," Fenton elaborated, grinning as his younger son flushed at his words.

Remembering what he suspected he'd interrupted that morning, Frank was nearly as pink as his brother. He managed to cover it up by faking a coughing attack, as Fenton put a hand on his wife's back and led her away.

"Remember kids, I'll need all four of you in the morning!" Fenton called back over his shoulder as they disappeared around a corner.

"Aren't they sweet?" Vanessa murmured, and Megan nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Storybook couple," she assented.

Joe was still flushed with embarrassment. "Let's hit the swimming pool," he proposed, striving for a normal tone of voice. "C'mon, let's change into our suits. It shouldn't be crowded this time of the evening; everyone's at dinner."

The others agreed with Joe's suggestion, but before they could act on it, they were surprised by hearing a voice calling to them.

"Hey, glad I caught you!" Jarrod, who had evidently been on the lookout in the lobby, came up to them, smiling. "Quint and I still want to show you 'Hilo by night,'" he invited. "Do you have time tonight?"

"Sure, I guess so," Joe spoke for them, after a quick glance to make sure no one had any objections. "Do we need to change?" He indicated their 'tourist casual' attire: slacks and casual shirts, and sandals; the straw hat Vanessa had worn to dinner, and the purses the girls carried.

"Nah, you're fine," Jarrod assured him. "C'mon!"

He led the way to the parking lot, and to a large, open jeep. Seated in the vehicle were Quint, behind the wheel, and another of their friends, but they managed to squeeze in Jarrod and the four newcomers as well. Frank, surprised at the roominess of the battered-looking car, realized it was an old Hummer – and a combination of rickety-ness and sturdiness.

Starting the engine, Quint depressed the gas pedal, and the old vehicle shot across the parking lot with a roar. Megan, cuddled on Frank's lap, with his seat belt enclosing them both, let out a whoop of laughter. Vanessa giggled, squeezing Joe's hand tightly, and clutched at her hat, to make sure it didn't sail off her head.

"Hilo's a great town," Quint called out, "not too big, not too small. I've always loved living here."

"Ever want to live anywhere else?" Frank asked.

"Nope, unlike some other people," Quint replied, as Jarrod and the other boy hooted derision. "No burning desire to live anywhere else. Even with Madame Pelè shooting off ash and pouring out lava every so often. It's nice here – and the sky is blue and the water's warm."

After a quick tour of downtown Hilo, they headed out on the highway which bordered the coastline. Several miles along, Quint slowed the Hummer and turned off the road, into a nearly-invisible lane which headed for the water.

"We're going to stop here," he announced. "It's a private beach – well, I don't mean it's privately owned, but it's…um…secluded. Tourists don't come here much. Kids our age come here almost every night. Sometimes we have a cookout, sometimes we play games and stuff – sometimes we don't do much of anything; just hang out. It depends on what we feel like doing."

"We won't intrude?" Megan asked hesitantly, as they bumped down the dirt path.

"Nah, it'll be cool," Jarrod assured her.

"It'll be fun…trust me," Quint turned his head to grin at the little redhead, who smiled tentatively back.

Frank also felt a little uncertain, but finally nodded his agreement. Joe and Vanessa were both indicating enthusiastic approval of this introduction to island 'young' fun, and he didn't want to be a wet blanket on the evening. When Quint parked the Hummer, everyone piled out. Joe extended a hand to help Vanessa, and Frank put his hands on Megan's waist to swing her to the sand.

The two Bayport couples linked hands and followed Jarrod, and Quint towards the beach, where they could see a bright bonfire, a volleyball net set up, and coolers sitting around on the sand. Large palm trees rustled and swayed, blown by the evening trade winds, creating shadowed patches of intense darkness which shifted as the fronds moved.

As they passed beside a blooming hibiscus, Megan reached to pluck one of the yellow blossoms, and tucked it behind one ear.

" _Malihini_ alert!" someone yelled from the beach as their group approached and people caught sight of the strangers. "Quint, man, what you doing with them _haoles_?"

"Chill, it's okay," Quint returned. "They're cool. We met 'em over at the hotel. They played beach volleyball with us, and we told 'em we'd introduce 'em around."

"That's right," Jarrod assented.

Mollified, the group of teens and twenty-somethings gathered around for introductions, and the newcomers were made welcome.

"Want somethin' to drink?" A girl with long dark hair, slanted dark eyes and the shortest, tightest cutoffs Frank had ever seen, held up bottles, two in each hand, smiling invitingly.

Frank was pretty sure he had smelled beer on a few of the kids, and hesitated.

"It's just fruit juice," Quint chuckled, seeing his indecision. "The cops come out here often enough that we've learned to be careful. We're too smart to bring booze to this beach. The juice is a local product."

Frank took a cautious taste, just in case this 'fruit juice' had a kicker of alcohol added, but after a few sips decided that it was exactly what Quint had said it was: fruit juice. And quite good, too!

Another volleyball game was started, with the team which had lost previously clamoring for a rematch. Frank and Joe were invited to play, while Megan and Vanessa moved to join some of the girls seated by the bonfire and get better acquainted. They seemed friendly, once the Hardy group had been vouched for by Jarrod and Quint, and more than one of the islanders commented on Joe or Frank's good looks, teasing Vanessa and Megan about their good fortune.

Smoke from cigarettes mingled with the smoke from the fire – and although there was a certain distinctive pungency to some of those cigarettes, the girls from Bayport chose to disregard it, and merely shook their heads 'no' when offered to share. They weren't about to indulge, but knew better than to create bad feelings with their hosts.

The volleyball game was as heated as the prior ones, points hard-earned and hard-won, until finally, once again, Frank's team – thanks to one of Quint's colossal spikes – emerged the victors. The boys, laughing and congratulating the winners, returned to the rustic picnic table where they had left their drinks, and swigged them down, thirsty after all the exertion.

"Man, you are something else with that spike!" Joe marveled to Quint. "Can you show me how you do it?"

Quint hesitated. "Not sure, _brah_. I could try, but…I'm not real sure how I do it, myself. I just…do it!"

"He's a Nike ad," one of the other boys snickered, and ducked as Quint lazily batted at his head.

"If we throw the ball up for you and watch…?" Frank suggested.

"I've tried that," Jarrod said, shaking his head. "I can't figure out what he does. I throw, he jumps…SMACK! I'm on the sand with the ball, and he's got another point."

"Ever thought about trying out for the Olympic beach volleyball team?" Frank asked. "You guys are good enough, I bet."

"Thought about it..." Quint admitted, sounding a little dreamy. "but you have to have contacts and sponsors and all that stuff, to even get to try. And we don't have that. But..." he let his words trail off with a wistful sigh.

"We should probably go," Joe said regretfully, looking at his watch. "Frank and I and the girls all have to work tomorrow morning. This was fun, though!"

Frank added his thanks as they headed for the Hummer, gathering up Megan and Vanessa as they went. Quint got behind the wheel again, but this time Jarrod and the other boy decided to stay at the beach party while the visitors were dropped at their hotel. The Bayporters clambered into the Hummer, glad to have a little more room this time.

Just as they were ready to pull out, one of the girls – the exotic-looking one in the short cutoffs – ran up to them, bottles again clanking in her hands.

"One more for the road," she said, and distributed them to the Hardys and their girls. "Enjoy it! _Aloha_!" She waved and backed away from the car.

Quint chuckled. "That's Aolani. She's always like that – trying to fatten people up, or something!"

"I don't mind, I like the juice," Megan said. "But I'm full right now; I'll save it for later." Vanessa nodded her agreement and tucked the little bottle into the bag she carried.

Quint delivered them safely to the hotel and took off again for the beach, calling back ' _Aloha'_ as he departed.

"Guess we should head for bed," Joe said reluctantly. "That was fun, though."

"Yeah, it was." Vanessa yawned openly. "But I'm tired. Let's go."

The four parted in the hallway outside their rooms, both couples lingering over goodnight kisses for a time, but eventually conceding that they were too sleepy to remain longer. The girls disappeared into their room, and Joe and Frank went into theirs.

Unable to resist the temptation to stay up just a little longer, Frank switched on the television to the local late newscast, and sat down on his bed to watch while he drank the bottle of juice Aolani had given him. Joe joined him.

"I think I'll take a shower; I've got sand in a lot of really awful places," Frank said at last, and got to his feet.

It hit him as he crossed the room – instant dizziness. He blinked and staggered, putting out a hand to catch himself, but hitting the wall, instead. _Something in that juice…!_

"Frank? What's wrong?" Joe frowned and got up, intending to go over to his brother – but the room swirled about him crazily and he stumbled, barely managing to drop across the foot of his bed instead of landing on the floor. "What the…?"

Unable to get to his feet, Frank crawled across the floor, suddenly very, very tired. He pulled himself up onto the bed with difficulty, keeping his eyes closed to avoid the disorientation as the world seemed to be spinning and tilting sideways and upside down….

Television left on, lights still burning…neither Hardy was aware of it, as both fell into dark oblivion.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann and Max2013, for leaving feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 13

 _Someone gently stroked his cheek...over and over._

 _The young man moaned and tried to move away from the stroking hand, tried to wave a hand to fight off the caress – but found that his arms wouldn't work and his body refused to cooperate. Next, he attempted to open his eyes and see who was bothering him...but it was simply too much effort._

 _He finally settled back, deciding that he liked the softness of his bed, and relaxing into the soft stroking of the unseen hand._

" _Can you hear me?" The voice was low and even, a little raspy. It lulled the young man even further._

" _Yes," he replied immediately._

" _Good," the voice continued. It wasn't a familiar voice to the young man, but he didn't really care; he was warm and comfortable, and the stroking was soothing and relaxing. "Now, let's talk a bit, shall we?"_

" _All right," he said agreeably. He didn't mind talking, so long as he didn't have to move. He felt even more disconnected from his body; as if he was floating in a large, calm body of water, moving serenely along with the tiny waves, content to be part of the scenery around him._

" _Tell me," the voice continued, "do you love your parents?"_

" _Yes." Easy question._

" _And your brother?"_

" _Yes." That was easy too. Were there going to be harder ones?_

" _And your girlfriend?" The voice grew a little softer, the stroking more gentle._

" _Yesssss," the young man agreed fervently. His girlfriend. Oh, yes. He felt a smile grow on his face, and he sank dreamily into delicious lassitude. So warm...and comfortable..._

 _The stroking stopped for a moment, and his smile diminished at its lack. Why had it stopped? Were they done talking? If they were done, he was going to sleep. No sense in being awake for nothing, right?_

" _Tell me." It was the voice again, lower now, barely there. Maybe they weren't done after all? But why was the guy talking so softly? "Have you ever...been with...your girlfriend?"_

" _What?" He was confused. He wanted to open his eyes, but they seemed to be so heavy – weighted down, almost as if he was buried in sand. He sighed. What a strange question! He was with her as often as possible, of course! He smiled again, at the thought._

" _Have you slept with her?" the voice asked delicately._

" _Sure," he replied, still smiling. "Fell asleep beside her a few times, yeah."_

 _That answer brought a response that surprised the young man; a harsher word than he'd expected, in a harsher tone._

" _Have you," the voice continued in irritation then, much less gentle than it had been. The listener frowned in confusion. "Have you. Had sex. With your girlfriend?"_

 _The young man would have blinked, had he been able to open his eyes. "No." The question surprised him, and he suddenly found himself wondering why it was The Voice's business, anyway. "Nope. Haven't."_

 _The stroking resumed, gentle and even and comforting. "Good," the voice said softly. "Very, very good. You're as perfect as I thought."_

" _Tha's good," he repeated sleepily. "Glad ya think so. Can I go t'sleep now?" The luxurious lethargy was pulling at him, drawing him down into slumber._

" _Yes, go to sleep now," the voice told him. "You will join us...soon."_

 _The young man stretched and yawned, then rolled over in bed and went back to sleep._

#####

Joe blinked his eyes open, squinting at the light streaming into his eyes through the open curtains. "Hey, why're the curtains open?" he mumbled a protest. Sleepily, he debated the question of whether to simply roll over, away from the light, and go back to sleep, or get up, close the curtains, and _then_ go back to sleep. He yawned and stretched, turning his head toward the other bed. He could see Frank asleep, lying straight and tucked in, as usual. Frank slept so _neatly_ , it was almost annoying.

Lazily, Joe let his gaze travel toward the clock on the table between their beds – and then jerked to his feet in panic!

"Frank! Wake up! Get a move on! We have exactly ten minutes to get downstairs to the seminar!" Roughly, he grabbed his brother's shoulder and shook it.

Frank bolted upright in bed, rubbing his eyes as he stared at the digital clock radio. "How'd it get so late? Why didn't the alarm go off? Was it set?"

"I don't know. I don't remember setting it. I don't even remember going to bed last night!" Joe shook his head. For some reason, last night seemed very strange; he couldn't remember what they'd done, or where they'd been...well, whatever. He felt fine now. "We've gotta run; we're gonna be late!"

Joe threw on a blue, button-down shirt and dark blue slacks; he ran a wet comb through his hair, and brushed his teeth. "I'm ready! See you downstairs!" He grabbed his wallet from the dresser, checked to make sure the key-card was in it, and left, racing down the hallway towards the elevator.

Frank had been moving no less quickly; he'd donned brown slacks and a green-and-tan-striped shirt, and now moved to brush his teeth and run his electric shaver hastily over his cheeks. There were times he envied Joe's blonde peach-fuzz; it was easier to get away with not shaving. He scowled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he combed his dark hair. Why had they overslept like that?

The question nagged at him as he made his way downstairs. He was almost always able to get up when he needed to, usually awakening before the alarm went off. Worse, he couldn't even remember going to bed, and that set off warning bells inside his head. Why in the world wouldn't he remember something like that? He was still puzzling over it when he reached the room where the seminar was being held, catching up to Joe just as his younger brother was entering. They spotted Megan and Vanessa, who waved them over.

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty!" Megan laughed as she gave him a quick, good-morning kiss and a hug. "We were about to storm the Bastille to rescue you from the depths of slumber! Neither of you responded to phone calls or us pounding on your door – what happened?"

Joe shook his head, sliding his arm about Vanessa, who handed him a cup of coffee. "Babe, I owe you my life for this!" He took a quick gulp, then continued, "I dunno, Red. I guess we were just dead tired. We both practically fell into bed, and slept right through the alarm – and we weren't up that late; no later than you two. I woke up about ten minutes ago, and got him moving," he added, jerking his head towards his older brother.

Megan feigned shock, staring at Frank in amazement. "HE got YOU up?" she gasped, her dimple flickering in her cheek.

Frank shrugged dismissively. "Even he gets lucky sometimes, you know? What's Dad have for us – ow!"

Joe, having delivered a solid whack to the back of his older brother's head, smirked.

This being the last day of the seminar, all of them had been requested to be on hand, both to be available to help, and to be around when thanks were extended at the end of the day. By now, they'd become acquainted with some of the attending law officers, at least enough to exchange friendly greetings with them. Detective Ekela gave Joe an appreciative nod and a quiet 'thanks, young Joe,' when the younger man was passing out evaluation forms; Captain Masukoko seemed much less formidable this morning than he had previously, as he smiled his appreciation of Megan's offer of a cup of coffee. Chief Pauahi chatted with Frank about surfing, during the mid-morning break. And Lt. McCullough flirted openly with Vanessa all day, until Joe's volatile temper began to rise. Vanessa, however, nipped the temper tantrumin the bud by giving her boyfriend reproving looks, and when that didn't work to her satisfaction, turned her back on him and ignored him completely...until he grudgingly allowed that Dylan McCullough was no real threat, and settled down into what she considered polite behavior.

At two-thirty, Fenton declared the seminar completed, and smilingly accepted the fervent thanks of the Hawaii State Police Commissioner, plus several others. He re-introduced his 'assistants' – Megan got by far the loudest round of applause, to her blushing, dimpled delight – and the day was complete.

"Have a safe New Year's Eve," Fenton added a last admonition to the attendees as they exited the big room. "And Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year!" a general chorus replied.

"You kids go on ahead and leave," Mr. Hardy told his sons and the girls, when they gathered around him to ask for final instructions in gathering up his equipment and paraphernalia. "A lot of this stuff will simply get tossed into recycled paper; the equipment mostly belongs to the hotel. I'm going for a celebratory drink with Lt. McCullough and Captain Pauahi, and then Laura and I are going to the awards banquet for dinner, later. And then there's a New Year's Eve party at the hotel – for grownups, I might add." He grinned. "You're on your own!"

###

"So, what shall we do?" Megan queried the others, as they sat in comfortable chairs in the hotel lobby, debating their course of action for the rest of the afternoon.

"I'd kind of like to stick around the hotel – well, or close to it; the beach is fine – for today," Vanessa said. "I still get tired faster than usual," she admitted apologetically.

"Not a problem, babe," Joe said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. "There's plenty to do right here."

"Tonight's New Year's Eve, too!" Vanessa went on. "I think there's celebrations right here at the hotel going on – parties and stuff, and not just the one your folks are going to. Tomorrow, though," she went on, "I know exactly what I want to do – Kilauea!"

"Yes!" Megan chimed in immediately. "The volcano! Let's do that tomorrow!"

"Sounds like a good idea," a voice unexpectedly broke in, and they jumped, surprised to see Fenton, accompanied by Lt. McCullough, standing behind Frank's chair, grinning teasingly at their surprise. Evidently the two men were on their way to the bar for their drink. "I'll see about arranging a tour for us, for tomorrow. A New Year's Day outing."

"Thanks, Dad!" Frank smiled his appreciation.

"No problem," Fenton said. "Your mom and I want to see it too. See you later, kids." He and McCullough moved on through the lobby.

"I'm hungry!" Joe declared. "I missed breakfast, and lunch was just a piddly little sandwich." He flicked a surreptitious glance at Vanessa. "Do you suppose they have waffles on this island?"

She made a face at him, then laughed and stretched out her hand to meet his, as they sat in adjoining chairs. "It's too late for lunch and too early for dinner, Waffle Boy! Maybe we can find a place that serves breakfast 24/7. But will you be hungry for dinner, then?"

"Sure!" Joe proclaimed. "I'm a growing boy, after all!"

Frank snorted. "I hate to break it to you, but you've probably already reached your full growth, so that excuse is out!"

"Hey, some of the NBA players had huge growth spurts while they were in college!" Joe protested. "Who says I won't?"

"I do," Frank said blandly.

"Don't mind him, Joe," Megan interjected, dimpling at the younger Hardy. "Maybe you will grow taller yet!"

Joe grinned, pleased. "Red, have I mentioned that you're my absolutely favorite sister-in-law-to-be?"

She eyed him speculatively. "I'd hope I was your only sister-in-law-to-be!"

"Well, there is that..."

"You hungry?" Frank asked his girlfriend, who waggled her hand back and forth in a so-so gesture.

"If we eat now, then we might as well skip dinner," Vanessa observed, glancing at her watch. "It's already after three."

Frank looked at his watch too, just for confirmation. He liked looking at it, since it had been his birthday gift from Megan. "We don't have to skip dinner, we'll just have a really late one," he proposed. "We'll be up past midnight tonight, celebrating, and we'll eat late."

Accordingly, they set out for the Mauna Loa restaurant, which was a short block away from their hotel. Once there, they were seated at a table outside, near the beach. A large umbrella shaded them from the sun, and the soft, tropical breeze wafted about them as they perused their menus.

"That's what I want – a Krakatoa burger!" Joe said, enthusiastically.

Frank read the description, looked at the picture on the menu, and said, "If it's named for a volcano, I wonder if it's hot?"

"It sounds great," his brother went back to extolling his choice. "It comes with prawns, grated cheese, and onions!"

Frank, shaking his head at Joe's idea of _haute cuisine_ , read through the list. He could see lots of things that looked good: lots of fish, steaks, chicken...

"I'm going to have the Opakapaka with grapes," Megan announced, closing her menu. "It sounds yummy!"

"Hawaiian Fruit Platter," Vanessa sighed blissfully. "Pineapple and more pineapple! And melons and kiwi! And mango sherbet on the side!"

"Ono with spinach and Gorgonzola," Frank decided at last.

Joe huffed indignantly as he heard their choices. "There's nothing wrong with a cheeseburger, ya know – you bunch of would-be gourmands!"

"Temper, temper," Frank said placidly. "We're not stopping you from having your burger, are we?"

When their meals were served, all the food was as delicious as they'd expected it to be. Joe admitted that his Krakatoa burger _was_ a bit on the hot-and-spicy side...and he loved it, thank you very much! He offered to share bites, but only Vanessa took him up on it, and she shrieked after one nibble, and hastily returned to her fruit platter.

###

While they ate, they discussed how to spend the remainder of the day. Vanessa confessed that she wanted to do a bit more shopping, at which Joe rolled his eyes resignedly, and then pasted a sweet smile on his face. Megan said she wanted to spend some more time on the beach, swimming, catching the late-afternoon sun's rays and deepening her tan.

"I can shop later, after the sun goes down," she said, smiling. "How often do I have a chance to get a tan in December?"

"If we get done quick, we'll join you on the beach," Joe said hopefully.

They parted then, Joe and Vanessa heading for stores, and Frank and Megan walking slowly back towards the hotel, to get their swimsuits on and then head for the beach.

"See you in a little while," Vanessa called back to Frank and Megan, as they left, and received affirming waves in return.

"What could be better than spending New Year's in Hawaii?" Megan asked rhetorically as they walked along the warm sand. "Playing in the ocean and then partying the night away at a fancy beach hotel...Frank, this is Paradise, it really is!" She stopped, pulled her boyfriend to a halt also, and threw her arms about his neck. "Thank you for bringing me!" she whispered, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Frank didn't bother to answer the question, he just held her tightly against him, agreeing completely with her. _Paradise...surf, sun, sand, New Year's Eve...and Megan. Oh, YEAH!_


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

 _Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today._ _Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen._

 _Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai and Max2013, for leaving feedback, and Wendylouwho for Following the story. And Cherylann, what makes you so sure that Joe and Vanessa are sleeping together? As far as *I* know, they aren't!_

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 14

"This has got to be one of the most fabulous New Year's Eve celebrations I've ever been to!" Vanessa exclaimed. She clutched at Joe's hand as another loud _BANG_! echoed about them, and colored sparks filled the sky above. "OOOOOOH!"

"Fireworks over the ocean at midnight – pretty spectacular, all right!" Joe agreed, his eyes fixed admiringly on the sparkles showering down. They were standing on the tiny lanai off the boys' room, where the view of the ocean and fireworks was unimpaired.

"The hotel teen dance was fun too," Megan put in, leaning back against Frank's chest and letting her head rest against his shoulder as she watched the fireworks display. She tilted her face upwards. "Happy New Year – again," she murmured, smiling.

"Happy New Year, Baby – again," Frank responded, and kissed the tempting lips.

All too soon, the last mortar shell was fired, and the fireworks display came to a close. Regretfully, the Hardys and their girls went inside.

"Now what?" Frank inquired, looking around at the others.

Joe and Vanessa exchanged a look. "Van and I," Joe announced, "are going for a walk on the beach. And we do not wish to be accompanied," he finished grandly. Vanessa laughed a little, but nodded her agreement.

"Well! I guess we know when we're not wanted, huh, Megan?" Frank attempted to sound insulted, but he was grinning. "I guess we'll just have to make our own fun by ourselves!"

"Uh-huh," the little redhead concurred with a dimpled smile. "I suppose we will." She batted her long eyelashes at Frank.

"Well, go on, go on," Frank moved to escort his brother and Vanessa out the door. "Don't let us stop you! Go – enjoy your walk!"

"Vanessa, do you think they're trying to get rid of us?" Joe hung back teasingly.

"Why no, Joe, whatever gives you that idea?" Megan answered before Vanessa could, and added her own pushes to Frank's. "Have a lovely walk...don't hurry back!"

When the door shut behind Joe and Vanessa, silence abruptly fell in the hotel room. Megan's giggles faded, and she gazed up at Frank with wide eyes, smiling a little.

"Alone at last," she said softly.

"Yup." Frank swallowed, and reached out to draw her into his arms. "Happy New Year," he said once more, and kissed the top of her hair, then moved his lips lower. "You...have any ideas...what we might do?"

"Well...we could...play cards," she suggested, between kisses. "Or...watch television..."

"Or not."

"Or...not," she agreed breathlessly.

"Megan – your mother's not here tonight."

"Mmmm-mmm...she's not..."

"Mom and Dad aren't around..."

"No...they aren't..."

"Joe and Van are gone..."

"Mmm-hmmm..."

"It's just...us."

"Mmm-hmmm..."

Slowly, they moved to sit on the end of one of the beds, still exchanging kisses. Frank wrapped his arms more tightly about Megan, and rested his head atop hers for a moment.

"Celebrate...this is a...good way to celebrate...New Year's."

"And...and...celebrate...this." The promise ring was waved vaguely before his face; Frank reached out and kissed it in passing.

"I love you, Baby."

"I love you, too – for always!"

With another soft "love you," Frank leaned back, pulling Megan down with him and bending over to press his lips against hers again. Her eyes fluttered closed.

 _BRRRRIIIIIIIING! BRRRRIIIIIIIING!_ The shrill ringing of the room's telephone shattered the charged silence of the room.

Frank sat up straight, gasping as if he'd suddenly had a bucket of ice water poured over himself. "Oh, God...the...the phone!" He stared at the instrument blankly as it continued its insistent summons.

"Well, aren't you going to answer it?" Megan sat up too, and moved slightly away from him.

"Yeah...yeah." Dazedly, Frank fumbled for the receiver. "Hello?" he croaked.

"Frank? I didn't expect you to be there! I'm surprised I caught you – I was just going to leave a message!" Fenton's startled voice boomed over the wire. "You kids done partying already?"

"Uh – no, no, Dad, I – uh – just came up to, uh – change my shirt!" Frank blurted, and saw Megan dissolve into silent giggles. He stuck out his tongue at her and tried to pay attention to his father's words.

"Well, I just wanted to let you boys know that I wasn't able to get our helicopter tour of Kilauea scheduled for tomorrow, after all. It seems everyone is booked solid for the next couple of days. We'll get it in, but it will have to wait for a day or two," Fenton said apologetically.

"Oh! Oh, well...that's too bad, Dad, but – well, I'm sure it won't matter if we can't do it tomorrow. Any other day is fine," Frank said. "I'll – um, I'll tell Joe and the girls."

"All right, son. Have fun, and we'll see you tomorrow. Happy New Year!"

"H-happy New Year, Dad."

Frank replaced the receiver slowly, and turned to his girlfriend. She was standing now, and smiling, but her beautiful blue-green eyes were full of regret.

"Boy, was THAT a mood-breaker!" he groused. "Might as well have had Dad come bursting through the door!" He eyed her questioningly. "Spoiled it for you too?"

"I'm afraid so," she admitted.

"No chance of getting it back?" he asked hopefully, but she continued to shake her head. "Ah, hell..." He reached for her hand, the one wearing the ring, and lifted it to his lips. "What do I have to do, kidnap you to a deserted island and cut off all communication?"

"Tell me you love me anyway?" she beseeched.

He held her tightly against himself. "I love you anyway," he said fervently. "I'll always love you anyway."

And as he watched her cross the corridor to her own room, he knew it was the absolute truth.

#####

The next morning, Frank didn't even bother trying to wake Joe up; he hadn't heard his brother return to their room, and had no idea what ungodly hour Joe had come in. He himself had tossed and turned for awhile after going to bed. _Frustration, no doubt!_ he thought glumly. But he couldn't fault Megan, he'd felt the same way. They just seemed to have the worst luck when it came to timing, that was all.

He showered, dressed and made his way down to the hotel coffee shop, where barely a third of the tables were occupied, and ordered coffee, juice and a bagel. He'd considered tapping on the girls' door and asking Megan if she wanted to join him, but was afraid she might not be awake, and he didn't want to risk waking Vanessa anyhow, so he sat in solitude, scanning through a copy of the morning paper which was lying on an adjacent empty table.

To his surprise, he was joined by his brother before he'd finished eating breakfast. Joe sank into the chair across the table and picked up a menu. He looked rumpled and bleary-eyed, and was yawning prodigiously, but he was awake.

"I didn't expect to see you upright before noon," Frank observed dryly.

"New Years Day," Joe mumbled, after a few gulps of coffee. "Football games are on, ya know."

"You really are going to spend a whole day in Hawaii watching football games?" Frank was incredulous. He liked football too, liked it a lot, but he couldn't see wasting all of New Year's Day in front of a television set when he could be out in the water on his surfboard.

"Not the whole day," Joe denied, shaking his tousled blonde head. "Not all that interested in all of 'em. But..." he broke off to yawn again. "Rose Bowl," he finished. "S'on at eleven, Hawaii time, I think. And there's a couple on earlier we could watch."

"Vanessa won't mind?"

"Vanessa likes football," Joe declared, "and since we can't go to the volcano – I saw your note—"

"We can just hang with the girls on the beach today," Frank suggested. "Or...we could maybe walk down to the harbor, they haven't been there yet..."

Joe glanced up, his sleepy blue gaze sharpening. "And while we're doing that, we can see what's up with the container ships and the warehouses?"

"Maybe." Frank hid a smile behind his coffee cup.

Joe nodded, contentedly. "Gotta admire your brain," he said, and began to look over his menu.

#####

Since both Megan and Vanessa slept late, Joe and Frank actually spent a good part of the morning watching the football games. There was a television set in the coffee shop, and a sizeable number of hotel guests settled in to enjoy themselves. The boys noted that their parents were not among them; they surmised that Fenton and Laura had taken advantage of the hotel's Room Service today. There was definitely something to be said for vacationing with parents when you were old enough to be left to entertain yourself and be on your own, and only needed to check in often enough for politeness!

###

The girls made their appearance in the coffee shop about noon, both looking well-rested and utterly fetching in shorts and light tops and sandals. They were carrying sun hats and tote bags.

"Happy New Year!" Vanessa patted Frank on the head in passing, and leaned over to kiss Joe's upturned face, then plopped herself into an empty chair. "The seminar is over and vacation has officially begun!"

"Hear, hear!" Megan applauded softly and kissed Frank as she sat down beside him.

"And you know what that means?" Vanessa paused dramatically.

The boys exchanged wary looks. What might they be leading up to? "Um...no, what?" Joe said at last.

"SHOPPING!" the girls chorused.

"Shopping?" Frank echoed feebly. Given a choice, staying inside and watching football all day sounded like the better bet, after all!

"Oh, stop sounding so terrified," Vanessa said, laughing. "We can go and do whatever you two want, as long as it's within easy walking distance of places Megan and I can buy things!"

Frank considered that, and decided it worked just fine with him. Surely there were lots and lots of stores between the hotel and the harbor. And all the little shops here at the hotel, adjacent to the sand and water, as well.

Joe was nodding his agreement too.

"So, who's up for a long walk down to the harbor?" Frank inquired a short time later. "Joe and I wanted to check something out down there – but we can take a cab if you'd rather; it would be faster, and then afterwards you can..." he shuddered eloquently for the girls' benefit, "shop."

"Why don't we take a taxi there, and then walk back?" Megan proposed. "That would let you two check out whatever it is you want to check, and then we can..." she paused as Frank had done, dimpling, "shop as we walk back here. And then we can play on the beach!"

Joe grinned down at her approvingly. "Red, I like your style," he announced. "I'll even do the honors and get us the cab!"

#####

The ride down to the harbor took little time, and soon the four of them were strolling along the pathway Joe and Frank had taken a few days before. To the boys' surprise and disappointment, both the large container ships were gone!

"Can you believe that?" Joe exclaimed in dismay. "They're gone – along with all our possible evidence!"

"We don't know that there was any evidence," Frank pointed out reasonably. He looked around at the docks, which were almost deserted. "I suppose they wanted to get them out of port and on their way before the holiday – today," he noted.

"Oh...right." Joe kicked idly at a small rock. "I keep forgetting what day it is," he apologized. "Well..." he stared out at the ocean swells as if he could conjure up the large ships. "I guess this idea was a bust, huh?"

"It's all right, Joe." Vanessa wrapped an arm about his waist and snuggled in. "It's still pretty, and we can have a nice long walk back and enjoy the scenery and look for stores..."

"Of which there are plenty," Megan noted. "There's those ABC Stores on every corner, almost!"

"Yeah, but they're full of...tourist stuff," Joe complained.

"And what were you thinking we were?" Vanessa challenged, her eyes twinkling. "They're full of the sorts of things people take home as souvenirs and presents for their relatives and friends, aren't they?"

"Oh. Um...well..." He looked at Frank. "Help me out, here!"

"Not me," his older brother refused. "You wallowed in there all by yourself, you can get yourself out." He turned around and started walking back the way they had come, pulling Megan along by the hand. "We're heading back now," he announced.

Still shaking his head over their 'lost' cargo ships and the disappearance of any clues about the stolen cars, Joe put his arm around Vanessa's shoulders and followed.

###

Shopping was on the girls' minds, and they made the most of their time. Despite it being New Year's Day, almost every store, shop and boutique was open for business, and there were many of them between the harbor and the Island Resort Spa. Finally, even Vanessa admitted she had just about reached the end of her 'gift list,' and was tired of walking for awhile, so, laden with paper and plastic sacks, they hailed a taxi and climbed in wearily.

"All done, then?" Joe asked hopefully as they rode along.

"With gifts, pretty much," his girlfriend told him. "However, there's a couple things I saw in one of those little shops right at the hotel that I want for myself." She batted her eyelashes at him beguilingly. "maybe we could check those out when we get back?"

"Vanessa!"

"How about if we play on the beach for awhile first?" Megan the peacekeeper intervened. "Those stores stay open until late every night, Van, and there's always tomorrow or the next day, or the next. We don't go home until the 6th, after all."

"Okay." Vanessa readily agreed to the plan. "I haven't been in the water for a couple of days; that sounds like fun!"

"Thank you, Red!"

Frank squeezed his girlfriend's hand and gave her a grateful look. She winked at him.

#####

"GAAAAAAAHHHH!" Joe's yell was cut off abruptly as he submerged into the water, lunging after the Frisbee Frank had tossed. After a few seconds he surfaced, triumphantly clutching the bright blue plastic circle in one hand. "Got it!" He sailed it towards Megan, who was standing just outside the waves; she in turn threw it to Vanessa.

They had swum and boogie-boarded, they had dug holes and played in the sand like children, they had had water fights and Frank and Joe had both attempted to surf, without a great deal of luck. Now the in-and-out-of-the-ocean Frisbee game was winding down, for all four of them were getting a little winded!

"Whew!" Frank retrieved the Frisbee from the water again, waded to shore, then bent over and braced his hands on his knees. "Time out!"

The others gathered around, agreeing with him. "Maybe we should find something quieter to do for a little while," Vanessa suggested.

"We already played in the sand..." Megan looked around for new options.

"We could just lie in the sun for awhile." Frank set down the Frisbee and began wringing water from his shorts. "Didn't you want to go home looking like you spent ten days in the tropics?"

"I did, and I do," Vanessa nodded, "but I also want to run into that one little boutique near the deli where we had lunch the first day, and see if that scarf is still there. It won't take all that long – come with me, Joe?" she pleaded. Leading the way to their lounge chairs, she picked up her wrap-around skirt and fastened it over her swimsuit, then added a voluminous t-shirt and slid into sandals. In ten seconds she was ready to shop.

Joe looked down at himself. "Like this?" he protested.

"Just put on your shirt and shoes," his girlfriend advised him. "Nobody cares how you're dressed in these stores, and your shirt's long enough to cover your swim trunks. Besides, they're shorts, anyway!

Mumbling softly to himself about how some people were awfully bossy, Joe complied. A few moments later, he and Vanessa were ready to start on their expedition to the 'store with the scarf.'

"We're just going to stay here and relax," Frank declared, flinging himself onto one of the beach chairs. He reached for a towel and folded it to lay across his eyes. "Wake me up when you get back."

"Think about what you want to do for dinner," Megan reminded the other two as she spread out her beach towel and settled onto an adjacent chair. "It'll take a little while to get cleaned up from all the salt and sand, if we're going someplace even a little bit dressy."

"You got it, Red. See you two in a little while."

They basked in the late-afternoon sun, enjoying the warmth and the soft _hush_ - _shush_ of the nearby waves, but before long Megan sat up again and reached for her tote bag.

"I'm thirsty," she announced. "I'm going to go get some lemonade from that little stand that's up closer to the hotel. You want anything?"

Frank lazily lifted one corner of the towel. "Sounds good." He felt a little guilty about having her get the drinks and wait on him, but was too comfortable to move.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, then." The quiet slap of her sandals lulled Frank back into a half-doze, and he was surprised when he felt a nudge against his elbow. He hadn't heard her return. "Here."

He sat up and took the paper cup, sipping the tart sweetness gratefully. "Baby, you are the greatest! This hits the spot!" He drank it swiftly, set the cup in the sand and lay back, covering his eyes once more. He was asleep within minutes, one arm hanging limply off the chair.

Megan smiled and sat quietly, sipping her lemonade more slowly, keeping watch over her slumbering boyfriend and people-watching in general as well. The beach was still crowded, despite it being late afternoon. There were numerous people frolicking in the surf, or playing on the beach. She reveled in the fact that although it was January 1st, and Bayport was cloaked in cold rain or snow, here where _she_ was, it was hot and sunny!

Nearby, a group of children were working on a large sandcastle – or rather, a series of interconnected castles, in a circular formation. It looked like they were creating a whole medieval village. She watched them for awhile, wondering what it would have been like to come here as a child. What a fantasy it would be – to know it was Christmastime, and yet be able to play on the beach in your swim trunks or bathing suit, and not catch cold!

She glanced over at Frank, who had shifted slightly to curl onto his side on the lounge chair. He was sound asleep, the towel still draped across the upper half of his face _._ She leaned back in her own chair, setting her empty glass down in the sand. She closed her eyes, drowsing in the warm air and soft susurrations of the waves.

###

"Hey – you Megan Wright?"

She awoke slowly, opening her eyes to find herself looking up at a young Hawaiian man standing over her chair. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light again.

"Yes, I'm Megan," she answered the question.

"You gotta phone call – they said it was an emergency, and I was to find you. Said you'd be here." The boy jerked his head in the direction of the hotel.

"Oh...oh, all right." An emergency phone call? Had something happened to her mother? Or was it Joe or Vanessa calling her; had they met with an accident? Heart pounding with anxiety, she got to her feet, and then looked at Frank, who was still sleeping peacefully. Ought she to wake him? Or let him sleep?

 _I'll be back in a few minutes; if it's something important I'll come get him._ Deciding to let Frank rest despite her worry over the phone call, Megan followed the boy into the hotel, where he indicated a phone on one of the desks in the lobby, then sauntered off, his job done. She lifted the receiver in trembling fingers.

"This is Megan," she said, and waited for a response. And waited. "Hello? Mom, is that you?" No reply. "Joe? Vanessa?"

And again she waited.

But no one answered.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann and Max2013, for leaving feedback on the last chapter.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 15

 _Now that's strange...very strange!_ Megan held out the phone receiver and frowned at it. Her apprehensions about a possible crisis with her mother were rapidly disappearing, to be replaced with puzzlement. _Who could have been calling me – and why did they hang up before I could answer?_ Slowly, she replaced the receiver, still wondering what was going on. Had someone cut the call off? Had the mystery caller been on a cell phone and the signal had been lost?

Definitely a mystery here!

She walked over to the reception desk to see if she could get any more information about the call.

"Excuse me," she began, once she caught the receptionist's attention, "but do you know who was calling for me? Megan Wright? Whoever was on the line hung up." She indicated the phone with a tilt of her auburn-curled head.

The receptionist shook her head. "I didn't take any calls for a Megan Wright," she replied. "Are you sure the call was for you?"

"Fairly sure," Megan said. "A messenger came out onto the beach and told me there was an emergency call for me – but when I came in, there was no one on the phone!"

"I'm very sorry, Miss Wright, but there haven't been any emergency calls," the receptionist told her. "I apologize for the inconvenience. I don't know why anyone would have given you that message. It sounds like a bad practical joke."

"Well...thank you anyway." Perplexed, Megan retraced her steps back to the beach. When she arrived at their beach chairs, however, she stopped in surprise. Frank wasn't there! And not only was Frank absent, but his lounge chair had fallen onto its side, and the towel he'd had over his eyes was lying in the sand.

Megan's heart began to thud painfully in her chest. She bit her lower lip and looked around, hoping to spot him somewhere. Telling herself that Frank would soon return, Megan set his chair back in its place, and sat down on her own. A sudden thought occurred to her, and her relative peace was unsettled: what if Frank had awakened, found her missing, assumed something had happened to _her_ , and charged off in search of her!? She looked around again and worried at her lip, undecided. _If I go inside to look for him, I might miss him when he comes back out. If I stay here and wait,, and Frank's inside looking for me, then he'll be upset and worried..._

After a brief mental struggle, she decided to wait for a few minutes here, and if Frank didn't return, she would go in search.

She settled down on her lounge chair, but didn't relax. She no longer appreciated the beautiful ocean vista spread out before her. The children who had been building the sand castles had finished their projects, and were now sitting on blankets or towels nearer the water, munching on picnic fare their parents had provided. There were a few people playing Frisbee further down the beach, and some others paddling about in the shallow waves, but Megan barely gave them a passing glance, other than to note that Frank was not among them.

She strained her eyes, hoping for a sight of Joe and Vanessa – or even Fenton and Laura. The more time passed, the more unsettled the girl became, and this was something she did _not_ want to deal with alone! What if something terrible had happened to Frank?

 _You're being silly_ , she chided herself a moment later. _Nothing bad has happened to Frank. The Hardys don't even know anyone here; there's no way someone would have kidnapped him!_

But silly or not, she couldn't help worrying. Based on past experience, she knew that the unexplained disappearance of dependable, trustworthy Frank meant that he was in trouble – even here in this island paradise.

Unable to sit and wait any longer, Megan went inside the hotel and headed up to Frank and Joe's room first. Perhaps he'd needed to come upstairs to get something or other, and couldn't wait until she'd returned...She knocked on the door several times, and even called Frank's name, although still making an attempt to not disturb the other hotel guests. But there was no answer.

She returned to the lobby, and walked down the corridor to the little shops connected with the hotel. She didn't expect to find Frank there – now her quest was for help. She was looking for Joe and Vanessa!

When she finally spotted them coming out of one of the little stores, Megan felt a surge of relief. Surely Joe could find his brother!

"Vanessa! Joe!" Calling their names, Megan ran towards her friends. "I can't find Frank!"

"You can't find him?" Joe frowned in puzzlement.

"We went to the beach and he was lying down, asleep, and then I got this phone call, only when I got there no one was on the other end, and the receptionist said that there hadn't been any call for me, and when I got back outside he wasn't there anymore, and his chair was knocked over, and I've looked all over, outside and here in the hotel; I even went up to your room and knocked and there wasn't any answer, and I can't find him anywhere—"

"Whoa, whoa, Red!" Joe put up his hands to stem the tide of words. "Slow down."

The little redhead stopped, embarrassed by the way she'd hurled the information at Joe and Vanessa. "It's probably silly, but I'm worried," she finished, striving for calm. "It's not like Frank to just...disappear!"

"It's not silly," Joe assured her. "You're right. It's not like Frank to just disappear with no explanation. We'll all work to find him, and I'll call Mom and Dad if we need to. Let's go up to the room, first. Maybe he's there, and just didn't hear you knocking."

They returned to their floor, and Joe unlocked his room. There was no sign of Frank; the room had been tidied and the beds made by the hotel staff earlier in the day, and they looked undisturbed. Joe checked around, just in case his brother had set down a room key or something – but there was nothing to show he'd been there.

"Well, this is a strike-out," he sighed. "Let's go back downstairs and wander around down there. Maybe Frank will find us. I'll check out all the men's restrooms on the main floor...and once we've looked everywhere we can – searched top to bottom and side to side – then if we still can't find Frank, then I'll contact Dad and hotel security."

"Shouldn't we tell hotel security now?" Megan asked. "Or even one of the police officers who were here for the seminar? Lieutenant McCullough, maybe?"

"No." Joe shook his head. "It hasn't gotten to that point. Frank hasn't been missing all that long, and there's no way local law enforcement would take us seriously yet." Although Joe was striving to make his tone upbeat and encouraging, there was a shadow of worry in his blue eyes. "Let's start on the mezzanine. I'll check out the bathrooms, then we'll split up. One of us will stay in the central lobby area while the other two go in opposite directions. Then we'll meet back in the lobby – with or without Frank in tow!"

Accordingly, they did so, but Joe's search of the men's rooms didn't produce any results. No Frank.

"I'll stay in the lobby," Vanessa offered, and coughed a little.

"That's a good idea, babe; you're starting to look tired. You stay put." Joe now had two reasons to worry: Frank's _disappearance_ and Vanessa's tired _appearance_. Vanessa settled down on one of the comfortable sofas in the main lobby, and Megan and Joe separated to search in opposite directions.

Megan was on the end with all the shops. There were four separate corridors that led through the various boutiques and stores connected to the hotel, and she carefully went down each and every one of them, thoroughly examining the interior of each store before proceeding to the next one. Her stomach was starting to twist up into knots from anxiety as more and more time passed and more and more ground was covered...and there was still no sign of Frank Hardy!

 _What's going on, anyway? If Frank's okay, then where did he disappear to? If he's been...kidnapped...why? We don't know anyone here, except a bunch of police officers!_ And who would – how would anyone? – benefit from kidnapping Frank? There were those car thieves, she supposed, but Joe and Vanessa had seen them, not Frank!

Megan reached the end of the shopping mall with no glimpse of her boyfriend. Sadly, she retraced her steps, again looking into the shops as she passed them. When she got to the mezzanine, she found Vanessa talking to Laura and Fenton.

"Did you find him?" Fenton asked, as Megan approached – although of course, he could see that Frank wasn't with her. Megan noticed that the detective's brown eyes were concerned, but not really worried, and Laura still looked serene.

"Nothing." Megan shook her head. "He's just not there. He's not anywhere. I looked..."

"Maybe Joe will find him," Fenton said reassuringly. "Or he'll turn up on his own in a little while. Maybe he went for a walk—"

"Mr. Hardy, he wouldn't have just strolled off for a walk – especially without leaving a note or something!" Megan said sharply. "And why was his chair overturned? Why did I get that weird phone call?"

Fenton looked a little more worried now. "I don't know, honey," he admitted. "But we'll find out." _I'll find my son, one way or another,_ he added silently.

Joe arrived a few minutes later, shaking his head and looking grim. "No sign of him," he reported. "I checked everywhere I could think of, and even took a quick jog back to the beach, but – _nada_."

"Well, we can check the beach more thoroughly," Fenton suggested, "but first I'm going to alert hotel security."

Rather than waiting for him to return, the whole group trailed in Fenton's wake. They saw Chief Pauahi crossing the lobby, and Fenton intercepted the police chief. In a low voice, Fenton told him of the strange occurrence of Frank's disappearance.

Speaking in a voice as muted as Fenton's, Pauahi questioned the detective for particulars. Megan, straining her ears to hear what was being said – without looking obvious about it – heard Mr. Hardy explaining about the mysterious phone call which had summoned her away from Frank's side, and the overturned chair and abandoned towel on the beach.

Pauahi frowned in concern. "I'll call the station and have a team sent over to lend a hand," he offered quietly. "But this being New Year's Day, we're already stretched a little thin, lots of officers want the day off. You understand. Since Frank is over 18, I can't contact Hawaii 5-0 yet; not enough time has passed – but that doesn't mean I can't give you a little unofficial assistance in finding him. If it turns out to be nothing, there's no harm done. But time is a factor..."

They continued on and informed the hotel manager and desk clerks of the situation; the manager immediately went to contact the hotel security chief.

At that moment, Detective Ekela strolled up, looking cheerful as a cherub – until he saw the worried looks on Pauahi and the Hardys' faces. " _Aloha_ , Mr. Hardy – Chief Pauahi...is anything wrong?"

"My son Frank seems to be missing," Fenton explained in a tone which was beginning to be clipped with frustration. He went on to explain the particulars of Frank's disappearance.

"I'll help look for him," Ekela offered immediately. "I have to leave for Maui in a few hours, but I can spend that time productively, helping hunt down the missing boy."

"Thank you, I appreciate that," Fenton said. He was about to continue, when a new voice interrupted him:

"Mr. Hardy! Mr. Hardy!" It was one of the front desk clerks hurrying over, towing a woman – one of the hotel maids, by her uniform – behind him. "This is Kachina Malari. She works the swing shift here in the hotel." He drew the young woman forward. "Tell them what you saw, Kachina."

Kachina, a typically pretty Hawaiian in her mid-twenties, with long black hair and dark brown eyes, nodded briefly before she began to speak.

"I was coming into the hotel through the back entrance, about two hours ago," she began, "when I saw something I thought was strange. I didn't realize then what I was seeing – but now I do. I saw the boy that was with the red-haired girl – you," she indicated Megan, "being pushed into a large van. I didn't think he was being pushed, then – I thought the two boys with him were just helping him get in. But I'm sure who it was. It was the dark-haired boy who is usually with you – or him." She pointed to Joe now. "And he was being taken away!"


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann and Max2013, for leaving feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By

EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 16

Joe shook his head in frustrated denial. _We're in Hawaii, basically on vacation,_ he seethed silently. _We were having fun, planning more good times! Why would anyone here want to kidnap Frank? Frank didn't see the car thieves stealing that car, so why take him?_ "But I saw them!" he said in a demanding voice, "I'm the one who saw the car thieves, not Frank! It was me and Vanessa – they should have taken me, not him!"

"It might not have anything to do with the car thefts, Joe," Fenton reminded him gently.

Joe shrugged in angry dismissal. "It doesn't matter," he said, "It doesn't make sense! We're on vacation – we were going to have a fun time in the warm sun before going back to the snow..."

"We were on vacation in Lake Tahoe too, Joe," Vanessa whispered, and began to gently rub her boyfriend's back, trying to soothe him.

Joe forced himself to relax. He wasn't prone to hysterics and he wasn't about to start giving in to it now. _It's time to think through things logically. Maybe the van that Ms. Malari saw..._.He turned to the maid with a hopeful expression.

"Did you recognize the boys who were with Frank? Do you know them?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm new to the Big Island. I just arrived here to work, last week. I've lived all my life on Kauai. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, to see what happened. But it was like watching a show on television, you know?"

Detective Ekela frowned slightly and turned to Fenton. "There's enough of us here to start looking for the young man who is missing," he suggested. "I can put off going back to Maui until your son is found – I'll just need to make a couple of phone calls. In fact, I have some ideas about where to start looking...if you'll excuse me?"

"Thanks, Detective Ekela. I hate to admit it, but I'm selfish enough to take you up on the offer," Fenton sighed. "I want Frank found as soon as possible."

Ekela smiled. In a frosty voice that promised dire consequences for the perpetrators, he said "Frank will be found – or heads will roll!" and stalked off to make his telephone calls, just as Dylan McCullough sauntered in.

The young lieutenant greeted the Hardys and Chief Pauahi, and then commented that it looked like something official was happening. "What's going on?"

"The older Hardy boy is missing," Pauahi said tersely. He quickly filled McCullough in on the details.

McCullough was professional and serious; he immediately offered to call it in to his base. "What's the good of having a 5-0 on hand if you don't use him?" he asked rhetorically. "We'll get a team out right away. I assume the local force will cooperate?" he asked Pauahi, who nodded agreement.

Joe listened to all this planning impatiently; he wanted to be out looking for Frank!

"Ms. Malari," McCullough turned to Kachina. "Did you happen to see the license plate of the van – get any of the number?"

"No sir," she said softly, shaking her head. "I never thought to look!"

Joe sighed. Really, he hadn't expected anything more, but still...He glanced over at Megan, who was standing nearby and listening intently, her blue-green eyes wide with shock and fear. Laura had her arm about Megan's shoulders in a gesture of comfort – even though Laura was beginning to look nearly as anxious as Megan. "Vanessa," he murmured, extending a hand to his girlfriend.

She moved closer. "Hmmm?"

"Maybe you could take Mom and Megan over to the coffee shop for awhile? Sit down?"

"I can do that," she agreed softly. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm good," he assured her. "but it would really help if you'll take care of Mom and Red. Thanks, babe."

He watched somberly as Vanessa led Laura and Megan to the nearby café, which was only a few yards away. Megan sank into a chair and put her face in her hands, brushing tears from her pale cheeks. Vanessa glanced back at him, and Joe blew her a quick kiss before turning to join the others in their strategic planning session.

"I want to help," he announced, as he heard them dividing up the jobs to cover. "Frank's my brother, and I'm not sitting this out."

Dylan McCullough scowled. "I don't want a kid involved in any of my investigations," he said grimly. "I don't care how good a detective you are; you're still a civilian. It's too dangerous, and besides, you're personally involved."

"My dad's personally involved too," Joe bristled, "and I don't notice you excluding him! I don't care whether you want me around or not, I am involved and I'm going to stay that way. I'm going to help find Frank – and I'm not a kid!"

The lieutenant opened his mouth to continue the argument when Fenton intervened: "Joe and I can work together, Dylan. And he does know what he's doing, civilian or not."

Joe threw his father an appreciative glance, then gave McCullough a look that challenged him to deny Joe the chance to participate.

McCullough didn't look entirely convinced, but didn't waste time or energy in argument. "Fine then. But Joe, you listen up: you do what you're told when you're told, got it? Or you're off the case right then."

"I will," Joe promised, willing to agree to anything that he had to, to stay involved.

The group split into its various parts, and Joe was left with his father. He looked at Fenton soberly. "What now?"

"First we're going to talk to everyone we've been in contact with that is connected with the hotel," the detective told him. "Especially any kids around your age." He smiled a little. "That's another reason I wanted you along; you can communicate with the local kids better than a bunch of police officers can!"

"We – Frank and I and the girls – we met a bunch of the locals the other day," Joe offered. "After the luau, remember? We went to a beach party with them. It's possible that some of them might be able to help – or at least, might know who owns the gray van. Dad," he continued in a softer voice, "do you have any idea why Frank might have been...taken?"

"No – not yet," Fenton admitted. "It seems strange that this would happen here in Hawaii. It's not like we're local – or even rich tourists. We're here on business, primarily..." He shook his head. "I suppose it's barely possible that someone from my past knew that I was going to be here, and took Frank – but I have no idea who it might be, or why."

"I wish I knew the motivation," Joe sighed. "It might help us figure out who took Frank – and where they took him." He refused to even _tolerate_ the idea that Frank might not have been taken anywhere – he might have been conveniently disposed of! Joe tilted his head towards the table in the coffee shop where Vanessa, Laura and Megan despondently sat. "We should get them involved," he offered. "They might be able to help, and that way they aren't sitting around worrying."

"Oh son, it could be very dangerous," Fenton demurred. "I don't want to risk your mother or either of the girls being hurt. If this turns out to be something...bad...well, I even thought about suggesting that they fly back to the mainland early," he admitted, "but I know your mom would never stand for it!"

"Neither would Red or Vanessa," Joe replied. "And they could be helpful," he repeated, "since we're going to be talking to hotel guests and other people about the van. They can ask questions of the guys. After all," he added, with twinkling eyes, "they're prettier than we are – and there's nothing like a pretty girl or woman flattering you to make you remember things!"

"Voice of experience?" his father asked dryly, and Joe blushed.

"I can talk to the girls," the younger Hardy said hastily, "and you can deal with the – um – older ladies. No doubt you've still got it with the ladies, don'tcha, Dad?"

Fenton snorted and lightly cuffed the back of his son's head as they moved to join Laura and the two girls.

They quickly reached agreement and solidified their plans.

"Let's meet back here in an hour," Fenton directed, "and we can exchange any information we've gathered. Then we can decide what to do next."

Megan, Vanessa and Joe went together for their part of the task, and Laura and Fenton walked off to do their own questioning.

"Let's try the beach again," Joe suggested. "Maybe we'll get lucky down there." They strolled towards the warm sands, which were now lighted by the hotel's flaring tiki torches. Joe paused when he saw a familiar face: Quint.

"Hey, Quint!" he hailed the other boy, and Quint waved and smiled, then trotted over to join them.

"Heya, _brah_ ," the young Hawaiian greeted him.

"Got a question for you," Joe said casually. "You know anyone who owns a gray van around here?"

Quint shook his head. "No, sorry. Nobody with a gray one – some surfers have vans, sure, but they're usually bright colors. Was it a taxi-van? Or maybe a cargo van – business-type? Could be owned by one of the local companies. Why you need to know?" he asked Joe.

Joe hesitated for just a second. "Oh – the driver of it dropped something, and I wanted to return it," he replied casually.

Quint's smile faltered the least bit. "Well...if the driver wants it back, whatever it is, he'll show up," he said.

"Well, thanks anyway – uh, _mahalo_ – and if you'd let me know, if you hear anything about one...?"

"Sure, _brah_. Happy New Year. _A`ole pilikia_ – _aloha_!" Quint sauntered away, whistling – swaggering just a little.

Joe turned to the girls – and found them making expressive faces at one another. "What?" he demanded.

"Oh – just Quint," Megan said hesitantly. "He's pretty...well, full of himself, that's all. Of course he didn't see any gray van – I doubt he ever sees past the end of his own nose!"

"He seemed a little different, when Frank was with us, last night," Vanessa agreed, "but now that he's not – Quint couldn't care less."

"I thought he seemed friendly enough," Joe frowned.

"Maybe," Megan shrugged. "Maybe I'm just imagining things. It just felt...wrong, that's all."

"Yep," Vanessa nodded her agreement again. "Call it women's intuition, Joe!"

"Not gonna argue that one," Joe said, putting up his hands in a placating gesture. "And I'd trust your intuition any day, Red. It's just that I didn't notice anything. Well, let's get started."

They spread out slightly, and began questioning other young people on the beach. Sometimes they flirted and teased, sometimes they just asked questions straight, but always they inquired about a gray van, and whether or not anyone had seen it pulling away from the hotel late that afternoon.

When they joined up again, on the hotel mezzanine, all three were discouraged.

"Nothing," Megan sighed, plopping herself down on a nearby divan and resting her chin in her cupped hands.

"Zip," Vanessa agreed.

"Same here. If it wasn't for Ms. Malari, the maid," Joe commented bitterly, "we wouldn't have known anything about Frank at all!"

Vanessa sighed. "I'm sorry, but I've got to take a restroom break," she apologized. "There's a ladies' room right here; I'll be right back."

"No rush, babe," Joe said absently. "We'll just wait for you here. Or," he added, his eyes twinkling teasingly again, "is this one of those things where you and Red have to go together?"

"I'll manage by myself, thanks," Vanessa said smartly, and strode off towards the restrooms.

Seconds later, Joe and Megan were startled to hear a blood-curdling scream coming from the bathroom – and Vanessa dashed out, her face drained of all color. She ran up to Joe and grabbed his arms, clinging tightly to him.

"Ka-Kachina Malari...is in there!" she gasped. "And...she's...she's...DEAD!"


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai, Guest and Max2013, for leaving feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 17

Frank shifted slightly as he came awake, groaning with various discomforts. He felt like a lead weight was stuffed in his head. And wasn't _that_ stupid, because how could anyone have a lead weight stuffed in their head, anyway?

His head ached dully, and he had the distinct impression that his mouth had been filled with cotton. He lay still, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the pounding in his head, and as he became more fully awake, he realized several things – several highly unpleasant things. Being the logical person he was, Frank grimly catalogued them.

One, his mouth _was_ stuffed with cotton – or something along that line. Two, there was an all-too-familiar stickiness and pulling sensation on his face. _Duct tape._ Three, his hands were behind his back, and he could feel the metal of handcuffs on his wrists, holding them in place. Four, his legs were tied together. When he tried to open his eyes, he couldn't; something was bound over them, a cloth of some kind. He could feel vibration beneath himself – movement. And a sort of roaring hum. _Engine noise._

He'd been snatched. Kidnapped...and was now a captive, of...whom?

 _Okay, somebody's gone to a lot of trouble to truss me up like a Christmas goose!_ Frank couldn't quite restrain a shiver. _Wonder when my goose is gonna be cooked...and why?_

Through the cloudy fog caused by his headache, Frank tried to remember what had happened, and to figure out what was going on _. I was lying in a chair,_ he thought _, on the beach. With Megan. And then...then..._ It was no use; he couldn't remember anything more. He'd evidently been knocked out, somehow. Chloroform? No, he didn't think so...he didn't feel sick enough for that. But something.

 _We don't know anyone in Hawaii,_ he thought. _We don't have any enemies here. Mom and Dad aren't exactly rich – so this can't be for ransom, can it? What's going on?_

He shivered, uncomfortable and miserable, and tried to shift again. With his eyes covered it was impossible to be sure, but the motion and engine noise he could hear led him to believe he was in a vehicle of some sort. It didn't quite feel like a car seat – and although it might be a car trunk, he wasn't positive about that. The floor – or whatever it was he was lying on – felt too even – not enough lumps for a trunk. He felt queasy.

The movement finally stopped, and his stomach settled somewhat. He heard the sound of doors being opened, and hands grasped and pulled at him, sliding him across the flat surface. _Okay,_ he decided, _I must have been in the back of some sort of van._ Suddenly the hands shifted their grip, and he felt himself going upside down – apparently draped over someone's shoulder in a fireman's carry! _Oh, not good..._

Frank struggled – or tried to. He could tell by the sounds, and by feeling himself being brushed against walls, or doors, or something, that he was being carried into a building. He wriggled frantically against the hands holding him.

"Shhh, be quiet. Accept your fate," a low, male voice said.

 _My fate? WHAT fate?_ Frank wanted to demand, but with his mouth taped shut there was no way he could make himself understood. He struggled again, trying to lash out with his bound legs, to no avail. A few moments later he felt himself being unceremoniously dumped onto...something.

"Struggling isn't going to help at all – it will only hurt you further," the voice informed him, and then he heard footsteps moving away.

The surface beneath him was much softer than the van. Frank suspected that he'd been placed on a bed. Well, it certainly could have been worse – at least these kidnappers were marginally kind to him. He might well have been stuck in a cellar on chilly cement, after all!

He could hear voices murmuring nearby, speaking just too softly for him to catch more than a few words here and there. He tried to listen intently, hoping for some tidbit of information that might help him figure out what was going on, but the bits of disjointed conversation he could catch didn't seem to make much sense. _Package delivered...ready for...Bound for now...will prepare..._

Unable to make heads or tails of the talk, Frank resorted to struggling again, trying to gain purchase on anything – the ropes around his legs, the tape over his mouth, the cloth covering his eyes – anything that would help him get free...or at least give him some idea of what was happening. He knew that normally, if a kidnap victim was blindfolded, then they had a better chance of being released when demands were met; they couldn't identify their captors. Frank relaxed a little as he realized that. Maybe he'd get out of this mess still alive.

The bed dipped to one side as someone sat down next to him, and the next thing he knew was sharp pain as the duct tape was ripped from his face. Frank winced, and felt cool fingers pulling the cotton stuffing out of his mouth. Sighing with relief, Frank took a deep breath.

A soft hand touched his cheek, and those same fingers rubbed something slick and cool into his skin.

"Wh-what's going on?" Frank stammered, turning his face away from the sensation.

"Shhh," a soft voice told him, and whoever this person...woman...was, she continued to smooth some sort of cream into his cheeks. After a moment he relaxed, finding that it soothed the sting of having the duct tape removed.

"You are very pale, _Po maika'I,"_ the voice said, and then began humming. Frank felt himself being turned on his side and the handcuffs unlocked – but before he could make an attempt to get free, another set of restraints were placed about his wrists, he was returned to his back, and his arms were spread wide and shackled to something on each side of the bed. Then, his legs were released from the ropes which bound them together, and more cuffs were placed about his ankles. Now he was lying spread-eagled, totally helpless to resist.

To his consternation, he next felt his shirt being unbuttoned, and then a warm washcloth was smoothed over his chest. _I can't believe this...this isn't happening._ He was desperately afraid that whatever _this_ was, it was leading to something...something he preferred not to think about. He hadn't recognized the Hawaiian word the woman had used when she addressed him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know...it was too alarming to think about.

"What are...you doing?" Frank rasped, his voice still rough.

"Shhh, just be quiet – stay calm," the woman whispered.

 _Stay calm, huh? While I'm tied up and you're_ _undressing_ _me? Riiiight, lady!_ He lay rigid, trying his best not to tremble.

Well, evidently she wasn't going to tell him anything about what was going on. He was decidedly nervous – and worried. Were Megan and Joe and Vanessa and his parents okay? Had they been taken too? If not, had they even noticed that he was missing yet? Surely Megan would notice...where had she been, when he was taken? They'd been together on the beach. A cold chill went through him at that thought – was she somewhere in this place too, being...being...

He didn't want to think about that possibility. What he wanted to do was go back to sleep, and wake up in his bed in the hotel. Or better yet, back in his bed at home in Bayport. Or on the couch at Megan's house, waking up with his head cradled in her lap, to see her dimple flash as she smiled down at him. He could wake up to anything, other than...this nightmare.

The woman methodically went about her task of stripping and bathing the elder Hardy; he never had a chance to fight to free himself, for she was careful to release only one cuff at a time, and always carefully relocked that one before moving on to the next area. He felt himself flush crimson, totally embarrassed, as she washed him from head to toe, and was grateful that his eyes were still covered, so that he didn't have to actually _see_ what was happening.

He had been afraid that she would leave him cuffed and naked, but then he felt himself being dressed again, and relaxed a little. But the clothing was unfamiliar; it felt almost like...a skirt? A grass skirt! Frank tried to pull away from the hands that were dressing him, suddenly thankful that Joe wasn't there to see this. He remembered seeing the men at the luau, the native dancers in their ti-leaf skirts, doing their sword and fire dances. But whereas those men had looked right in the costumes, Frank didn't think he would look nearly so appealing. Did these kidnappers expect him to suddenly become a fire dancer, or something, for God's sake?

 _If this is someone's idea of a sick joke, I'm not going to be responsible for the consequences. I'll cream them – especially if Joe's behind it!_ Somehow, though, he didn't really think Joe had had anything to do with it. _This is too...strange. Even for Joe's distorted sense of humor!_

Something was dribbled across his bare chest, and Frank tensed. The hands that had washed him now began rubbing something into his skin, moving clockwise in a detached, clinical fashion. He frowned, wondering again what was happening.

"What's that?" he asked, daring to speak.

"Oil, to keep your skin soft," the voice said, for once answering a question.

There was something added to the oil, Frank noticed – something with a strong scent. He couldn't recognize it by aroma, but it was strong – and not very pleasant. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as the stuff was spread over his body, on his arms and his legs – and he was glad that she didn't put it on his face.

"Drink."

Something was held to his lips, and thirsty as he was from the effects of the gag, Frank would have considered drinking almost anything. This seemed to be more of the sweet juice he had had before – how long before? How much time had he lost? At any rate, it quenched his thirst. He drank it all down – the woman gave him little choice in the matter, anyway.

"Sleep now, _Ho'okupu, Mohai,"_ came the soft whisper in his ear. "Be blessed of Pelè..."

Frank wanted to fight the feeling of lassitude which swept over him, but he was powerless to resist it. _Drugged...the juice, it was drugged_ , he realized. And with sudden clarity, he knew that the juice he'd been given at the end of the beach party had been drugged as well. That was why he and Joe had been unable to recall what went on, when they awoke the next morning!

"The _ho`ailona_ is strong," the voice continued to whisper in his ear. All was dark behind the blindfold, but Frank had the distinct impression that the room around him was beginning to tilt and spin, and he was whirling out of control along with it. "The _ho`oma`ema`ana_ will begin again tomorrow and then you will be lifted up... _Po maika`I –_ most blessed of men. _Po maika`I..."_

The room tilted and swirled – and unconsciousness claimed him again.

#####

"Help! Somebody help!" Joe called out as he went to the door of the women's restroom and very carefully pushed it open. He used his arm, in case the police wanted to try to dust for prints, although he doubted that they would bother. There had to be a bunch of prints on the door and in the bathroom itself, since it was a public restroom. But no doubt they'd at least try.

He saw Kachina Malari lying in a pool of blood, at the back of the bathroom.

He backed out and pulled a still-stunned Vanessa into his arms. She leaned against him, shaking. Joe hugged her tightly as Megan, Chief Pauahi, the hotel security people, Fenton and Laura and Lt. McCullough all converged on them.

"Vanessa found – Kachina Malari's in there," he jerked out. "She's dead."

The two police officers both headed for the bathroom door and McCullough pushed it open with his shoulder. They peered inside for a moment, then backed up, letting the door swing shut again. Chief Pauahi pulled a cell phone from his pocket and made a quick call.

Joe turned to his parents, still keeping his arms wrapped about Vanessa. "It looks like she was shot," he said in a low tone. "Since no one heard anything, it must have been silenced." He stroked Vanessa's back soothingly. "I'm so sorry you had to find her, babe."

"She was the only one who saw Frank being taken..." Laura whispered, her face pale.

"And obviously someone knew what she'd seen," Fenton said grimly, "and killed her because of it. Whoever took Frank evidently means business!"

"Do you think – do you think that whoever took Frank...they're going to...kill him?" Megan asked in a shaken voice. Like Laura, she had gone so pale that her scattering of freckles stood out like a spatter painting on white paper.

"I don't know, honey." Fenton's voice was dour, but despite his gloom he patted the girl in an effort to soothe her. "We just have to keep a positive outlook. And find Frank before anything can happen to him!" he added.

Dylan McCullough, who had returned to the murder scene, now exited the bathroom once more, his face bleak. He beckoned to Joe. "Can I talk to you – and the girls?"

"Sure, Lieutenant." The three teens followed the tall police officer, who led them into a back office behind the front desk.

McCullough closed the door behind them and motioned to the chairs. "Sit down," he invited brusquely. They obeyed silently, Vanessa and Joe sitting on the love seat; Megan sinking into a nearby chair. Dylan leaned against the desk and crossed his ankles, and took out a pen and little notebook.

"So—" he began, "what happened, exactly? How did you find Ms. Malari?" He looked from one young face to the other, expectantly.

Joe was the first to speak. "We'd been helping Dad talk to the guests and people around the hotel," he said somberly. "We were on the beach just outside for awhile, as well as here inside. We met back here on the mezzanine, and Vanessa said she needed to use the restroom. She went in; Megan and I were going to wait for her." He squeezed his girlfriend's hand.

"Miss Bender? What happened then?" The lieutenant smiled encouragingly. "Take your time," he added gently.

Vanessa's voice was calmer now. "I went in – and I was barely inside before I saw the body," she said. "I knew who it was – I was here when she told about Frank being shoved into the gray van – and I knew she had to be either dead or badly hurt. All the blood..." She shivered a little, and Joe released her hand to slide his arm about her shoulders. "I screamed, I guess...and then I got out of there and yelled for Joe."

"Anything to add to that, Miss Wright?"

Megan smiled a little and shook her head. Lt. McCullough was being so formal – they'd been Vanessa and Megan, just a few hours ago. "No, I didn't go in."

"Did any of you see anyone else in the bathroom or coming out of it?"

"No, no one at all." "No, didn't see anyone." "We'd just gotten to the mezzanine, but I didn't see anyone except Vanessa." Three voices answered at once.

McCullough frowned and looked at Joe. "This is turning very nasty very fast, kids. Kidnapping was one thing, but now we've got murder. I think it would be a better idea if you stayed—"

"Not a CHANCE!" Joe interjected, knowing exactly what the police officer was about to say. "Frank's still missing, Lieutenant! Dangerous or not, I'm not backing off looking for him now!" His fists clenched unconsciously; Vanessa gently rubbed his arm.

"Neither am I," Megan spat defiantly, her eyes flashing fire, and no dimples whatsoever in evidence.

"Nor I," Vanessa added quietly.

Dylan scowled. "I could have you all three put in protective custody," he warned, "or put on a plane..."

"I'd like to see you try it," Joe muttered, very low. Aloud, doing his best to emulate his brother's most reasonable, logical tone, he said "I'm not a child, Lieutenant, and neither are Vanessa or Megan. I've – we've – had more experience than you might think, with murders and danger." Both girls made assenting noises, and McCullough's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Besides, my dad is here. You're not responsible for us, he is!"

"We're not going home until we can take Frank back with us," Vanessa stated with conviction, and Megan nodded emphatically, her red-gold curls bouncing jerkily with the motion.

Dylan sighed heavily, stuck his notebook in his pocket and seated himself in the desk chair. He leaned back and ruefully rubbed a hand over his face. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he grumbled, "but okay – you can stay. And you can help. Within REASON!" he added hastily. "No running off on some harebrained whim...You promised to follow orders, remember? And not to do anything stupid!"

"Do I look like I'd do anything stupid?" Joe retorted, and then suddenly grinned. "Don't answer that!"

McCullough gave him a sour look. "Now I'm reduced to losing arguments with adolescents," he growled.

"We're not adolescents," Joe reminded him. "But as far as that goes, I'm obviously younger and more virile than you, Lieutenant."

Megan choked back a snicker, and then smiled blandly at McCullough.

Dylan's eyebrows climbed his forehead and he opened his mouth for a crushing reply – and then he caught the teasing twinkle in Joe's eyes. He cleared his throat meaningfully. "Younger, anyway. All right, you can go now. Stick with your dad, please? Unless he says otherwise? Shoo, shoo." He waved them out of the office.

Fenton was not in sight when they emerged, but Laura was, waiting patiently on a nearby sofa.

"Where's Dad?" Joe asked, looking around for any sign of his father.

"In there," Laura indicated the bathroom with a tilt of her blonde head. "He's helping with the crime scene until the 5-0 forensics team gets here."

Joe wished he could go in and help, but when he considered what he'd seen of Kachina Malari's blood-drenched body, he decided maybe he didn't want that _quite_ so much after all!

"I think we should keep on talking to people," he suggested. "Me and Vanessa and Red. It's even more important now; someone might have seen someone go into the bathroom when Kachina was in there..."

"I suppose," Laura agreed reluctantly. "Please be careful, though." She got to her feet. "I might wander and do a little questioning myself."

"In that case, you be careful too!" Joe admonished, and Megan and Vanessa both nodded their heads in agreement.

Laura smiled at them. "I will if you will."

Dylan McCullough exited the back office and approached them, inquiring for Fenton. After being informed of the detective's whereabouts, he said "I'm going to check out the security cameras for the lanai. That may tell us more than anything else." He turned on his heel and returned to the back offices.

"Let's try the beach again," Megan suggested, even though it was getting late for the warm sands to be busy with tourists, and it was becoming even more doubtful that anyone who might have noticed anything amiss would still be there. Most people had left to have dinner, or to watch the last of the football games.

###

"Red, do you remember any people from when you and Frank were here?" Joe asked, once they'd gained the beach again.

Megan looked around, a frown creasing her piquant features. "Maybe," she said slowly. "I can't be positive. I looked at people...but we were doing other things too, and I wasn't really trying to remember faces, after all. I do remember the kids building the big sand castle, though – and they're still here!" she exclaimed in surprise. "I'll go talk to them!" She hurried off, moving towards the water's edge, where several children were still frolicking in the waves.

"I'm going to check with the lifeguards," Joe told Vanessa, pointing toward a brightly-colored booth about 50 yards down the beach.

"Okay, I'll stay here and nab people as they go past," she suggested, and took up a position near where the sidewalk started. No one would get by her without being queried!

Joe questioned the two young men in the lifeguard tower, with disappointing results. They said that there had been a lot of people on the beach all afternoon, and as long as there was no trouble, they didn't notice specifics all that much.

"Except for the kids," one of the lifeguards added. "We always keep a special watch on kids on the beach. You never know what might happen!"

Thinking sourly that they ought to extend that theory to everyone, not just little kids, Joe thanked them for their time and retreated _. Maybe I should have let Vanessa interrogate them; she might have gotten a lot more out of it than I did!_

Megan was standing with Vanessa when Joe reached them. "Any luck?" he inquired.

"Maybe a little," Megan replied. "One of the older boys said he did remember something sort of strange. He saw two guys – by his description, 'just two guys wearin' swim trunks and white shirts' – and one was carrying something over his shoulder into the trees at the edge of the beach." She indicated a spot on the shoreline. "At first he thought it was a surfboard, but then he noticed that it was draped, not stiff – and it moved!"

"Faces? Could he identify them?" Joe demanded, his heart speeding up with hopeful excitement.

"No, I'm sorry." The little redhead's face was downcast, her voice filled with disappointment. "No one saw them – if it was them – close up."

"It's okay, Red; we'll just find them another way." Joe was about to ask another question when out of the corner of his eye, he saw something – a small, round, hard something – speeding directly at his head!


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann and Max2013, for leaving feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 18

Reacting instinctively, Joe dived to the side, narrowly avoiding being struck by the object, whatever it was. He grabbed Vanessa with one hand and Megan with the other, and brought the three of them down together on the sand, with a solid thump! For the moment ignoring the girls' exclamations of surprise and outrage at the landing, Joe stared towards where the object had come. To his distinct shock, he glimpsed a familiar face and tall form standing at the top of the path leading into the hotel. As Joe started to scramble to his feet, the person hurled another missile – a round, fist-sized rock – at them through the dusk; Joe ducked back down once more, briefly shielding the girls, and the rock sailed over their heads to land in the sand.

"Stay here, both of you!" Joe commanded, and pushed himself up, already gearing up for pursuit. He tore up the beach towards the path, letting fury add wings to his feet. Whatever Quint's problem was, he was going to pay for being a jerk, that was certain!

Quint, seeing his victim turned into an angry attacker, backed up a few steps, turned and ran, heading along the path into the hotel's lanai. Startled hotel guests scattered with small shrieks as he tore past.

Joe pounded up the path and into the hotel, hoping his renowned football-and-track speed hadn't deserted him – although, he admitted to himself, this was more like broken-field running than a flat-out race, since he had to dodge furniture and a multitude of people, as well as chasing Quint! "Stop him! Stop that guy!" he yelled, as Quint dashed along the lanai, for there were a group of police officers from the conference standing and chatting nearby – but Quint was past them before anyone could react!

 _Shoot, this guy's FAST!_ Joe shook his head in despair; he had a feeling that even if any of the cops had joined the pursuit they'd have a hard time catching the young Hawaiian. Joe doubted his _own_ ability to catch him, either; he was far speeder than Joe had given him any credit for!

Quint headed into a series of passages that led to the numerous small shops which flanked the hotel on either side; Joe kept him in sight only briefly, in the twists and turns and intersecting alleyways. He slowed down to a walk, trying to listen for the thump of running feet – and used the respite to catch his breath. He paced along the storefronts, glancing between each and occasionally looking behind, to see if Quint had managed to give him the slip and get behind him _. He's gotta be here somewhere close; he hasn't had time to get too far away!_ Beneath his breath, Joe crooned a challenge: "Oh, Quiiiiiiiint! Come out, come out, wherever you are...!"

The impact of a body against his own sent him sprawling, as the Hawaiian youth launched himself from the last corridor and tackled him. They rolled together, and Joe managed to free himself from the other's clutches. He sprang to his feet, glaring furiously at his opponent, who returned glare for glare; Quint looked as though he'd like to tear the Hardy boy limb from limb, and immediately went on the attack again!

"What the HECK is your problem, man?" Joe demanded, ducking Quint's swinging fist. "Have you lost your mind? Why'd you throw the rocks at us?"

"No, I haven't lost my mind!" Quint snarled. "I know what you do here, _haole_ , and I'm going to stop you!" He lunged forward, and Joe moved back, avoiding the blow.

"What I'm doing here? I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Joe spat furiously. "The only thing I'm trying to do is find my brother – and that's ALL I'm trying to do!"

Quint threw another punch; it landed on Joe's shoulder, and he grunted in pain before returning the blow – this one a solid hit to Quint's stomach. As Quint groaned and doubled over, Joe added a second blow to his midsection, putting all his weight behind it. Quint sank to the pavement, holding his stomach, and lay there, glaring up at Joe.

Warily, Joe kept his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and waited for the other man's next move. "What is it you think I'm up to?" he demanded. "HUH? Just what is it I'm supposedly doing that's such a threat to you?"

" _Haole_ bastard! I know you're trying to frame me for those car thefts!" the young Hawaiian snarled belligerently, "Or something worse! And I didn't have anything to do with them!"

Joe stared down at his adversary, some of the fury in his eyes being replaced by bewilderment. "You're full of it, Quint!" he growled at last. "I haven't framed anybody for anything! The only thing I'm interested in," he went on, his voice rising again in anger and frustration, "is finding my brother! And I will find him – one way or another!"

Quint gazed up at him for a long moment. "Your brother," he repeated softly, and seemed to come to some sort of decision. The hostility in his dark eyes faded a little, and he gingerly propped himself up on his elbows. 'Listen, we gotta talk."

"About what?" Curious about Quint's change in attitude, Joe bent closer.

"Not here," the other boy hissed, his eyes flicking furtively from side to side. "It's gotta be private. You gotta know something, _brah_ , but I can't talk here...there're eyes everywhere, you dig? Gotta be careful."

"Why should I listen to anything you say?" Joe asked in disgust. "You just tried to kill me with that rock – would've, too, if I hadn't ducked fast enough!"

"I had to make it look good, didn't I?" Quint parried. "Supposed to keep people off-balance. It worked, didn't it?" He rubbed his midsection. "Too well," he added ruefully.

Joe grinned maliciously at that comment. "It worked all right," he conceded, "but I don't trust you as far as I could throw you – and give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you over to the police for assault?"

Quint scowled darkly. "If that's how you feel, go right ahead," he spat out. "I won't say a thing – and your _kaikuaàna_ – your precious brother – can roast in hell, for all I care!"

"What do you know about Frank?" Joe seized the other man's shirt collar in both fists, and dragged him up a few inches. "Talk, Quint, and I mean right now!"

"No." The Hawaiian youth's mouth set grimly. "Not here. Either let me go and I'll meet you later, or I'm saying nothing – and you'll never find him."

Furious but stymied, Joe sighed and slowly let Quint back down. He hated to do this; it was against his better judgment and all his instincts – which were screaming for him to rip the Hawaiian into shreds, forcing him to give in and tell whatever it was he knew – but Quint had the upper hand now, and they both knew it. _Besides...what's that old saying Aunt Gertrude comes up with sometimes? You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Quint's no fly; he's a_ _cockroach_ _, but..._

"Okay," he muttered, and sat back, releasing his tight grip.

Quint scrambled to his feet, moving without his usual fluid grace and keeping one hand pressed against his sore stomach. "There's an old cottage down the beach," he whispered, so softly that Joe could barely discern the words. "Go that way." The Hawaiian tilted his head slightly, indicating the direction. "You'll find it. About a mile down; section of beach where not many go – no _malihini_ , anyway. There's a locked gate – code is 8714. I'll meet you there tonight. Ten o'clock. Come alone – if I see cops, I'm gone, got it?"

Joe scowled, not liking this in the least. But he had little choice. "I'll be there," he agreed, then cocked his head as a sudden thought occurred to him. "You're talking different now," he observed.

Quint snorted. "We do learn standard English in school, you dumb _keiki_! But no one uses it on the beach. You think I'm just some half-wit native—"

"NO!" Joe interrupted him. "You know I didn't think that. I do think you're a real jerk, though, standard English or not." He gave the tall Hawaiian a fierce look. "Whatever this is, it had better be good, otherwise I'm going straight to the police when we're done."

"Oh, it is, _brah_ ," Quint assured him, grinning tightly. "It is."

They moved together to the next intersecting alley. Quint slipped into it without another word, and disappeared into the shadows.

Joe walked back to the hotel, stopping only to inform the police officers that he had settled things with Quint. "I thought he might know something about Frank – but I guess I was wrong," he dissembled, and went back to the beach, where he found Megan and Vanessa awaiting his return.

"What happened?" Megan demanded as soon as he appeared. She gripped his arm tightly, her nails digging into the skin in her agitation. "Did you catch Quint?"

"Shhh, Red." Joe removed her hand from his arm with a wince, and enclosed it in his own. He put his other arm around Vanessa. "Let's walk a little bit," he proposed.

The girls obeyed, falling into step with Joe, one on either side. As they strolled down the beach, Joe told them in whispers what had occurred and what Quint had said – or implied.

"I don't like it," Vanessa said bluntly, when Joe finished. "I don't trust that guy; he's devious and slippery!"

"Meeting him alone is too dangerous," Megan concurred. "He's not to be trusted – at all, Joe!"

"Maybe so," Joe shrugged, "but if there's a chance he knows anything at all about where Frank is, and how to find him, I've got to do it; you know that, Red. If I didn't – I'd never forgive myself."

"Frank wouldn't want you to get hurt, or take chances with your own life," Megan argued – although her voice quavered when she spoke Frank's name, and she clung to Joe's hand like a lifeline.

"Maybe not, but he's not here to tell me that – so I have to do what I think best." He briefly removed his arm about Vanessa to ruffle Megan's auburn curls. "I'll be okay, Red – trust me!"

Vanessa doubled up a fist and punched her boyfriend on the arm. "You'd better be, or I'll kill you myself!" she threatened.

Joe just laughed and kissed her.

###

Since they were on the beach anyway, the three continued their plan of asking passers-by if anyone had seen Frank, the gray van, or anyone accompanying Kachina Malari, the maid from the hotel, but there were none who even remembered seeing Frank and Megan on the beach, much less anyone taking him away. The people on the beach now weren't the ones who had been there in the afternoon, for the most part. At last, admitting defeat, they returned to the hotel, and found Fenton and Laura on the mezzanine.

The elder Hardys were observing the 5-0 investigators as they went about their business with accustomed efficiency – taking photos, marking and measuring, dusting for fingerprints, noting the blood-spatter patterns in the bathroom...all the sad procedures which marked Ms. Malari's demise. Laura had an arm about her husband's waist, and her blonde head rested against his shoulder as they watched.

"Find out anything?" Fenton asked, as Joe, Vanessa and Megan approached.

"Maybe," Joe said. "Let's go upstairs where we can talk, okay?"

Once the five were settled in Fenton and Laura's suite, Joe explained what had gone down with Quint.

"He insists that he'll talk to me only, and if I bring along any law enforcement, the deal's off," Joe concluded. "So it looks like I've got a ten o'clock appointment tonight."

Both his parents were frowning; it was obvious that neither Laura nor Fenton was happy about the situation. One son missing, the other forced to agree to clandestine meetings with questionable characters...no, they weren't pleased.

"I don't like it," Fenton sighed heavily, "but I don't see that we have a whole lot of choice. The trail's gone completely cold, and we can't afford to ignore this. BUT," he continued, with a stern look at his younger son, "I'm going to figure out some way to be in the vicinity; you're not going into that situation without some backup, Joe!"

"I'm not arguing the need, Dad, but Quint said that the place is secluded. There may not be anywhere for you to hide, and he'll run if he sees anyone else. Look, I can do this – and I can get in and out in one piece." Joe fixed his father with a pleading look. "We don't have any other leads to Frank, Dad. No idea who took him or why, or where they might have taken him."

Joe paused, frowning thoughtfully, then looked up at his father. "I just thought of something," he said quietly. "When Frank and I were down on the docks, Frank saw some crates that were labeled pineapple, but actually contained some sort of artifacts. They were in one of the warehouses there by the harbor. What if someone saw Frank looking in the crates – someone with something at stake."

"Well..." Fenton considered that little item for a few moments. "I suppose that if someone's smuggling, and saw Frank, it's possible that they would kidnap him to keep him quiet about what he saw."

"But even if he was seen, he wasn't kidnapped that same day," Joe, despite having brought up the topic in the first place, was playing Devil's Advocate. "And anyone with a lick of sense would know he'd tell me—"

"You weren't with him then," Fenton reminded him, and Joe subsided.

"Maybe that's why Quint asked Joe to meet him," Vanessa speculated. "They could be planning to kidnap Joe, too!"

"Nah." Joe shook his blonde head. "Quint's not stupid; he'd know I'd tell people where I was going. He didn't say not to tell; he just said not to bring anyone else along."

"Bring," Fenton emphasized. "You're not going to bring anyone else along. But of course you can't stop someone you told about it from following you. Without your knowledge," he added, his dark eyes twinkling.

Joe gave him a conspiratorial look. "I'm going alone," he repeated clearly. "It's a lead to Frank and I'm not going to ignore it." He might have been speaking for the benefit of hidden microphones or cameras, although they were fairly certain that none existed in the hotel room. "And I promise to be careful, Dad," he finished, speaking very seriously.

"Do you suppose Quint would object if I came along?" Vanessa ventured. "I'm not a cop – and I'm not very threatening." She coughed a little, delicately. "I'm recovering from a cold; how dangerous could I be, after all?"

"You could breathe on people," Megan offered, her blue-green eyes full of suppressed laughter.

Vanessa coughed again, ostentatiously. "I'm no danger to anyone," she repeated. "I'm just a helpless little _wahine_ , after all. Quint shouldn't have a problem with me being there, and that way Joe won't be completely alone. I can wait a ways down the beach, even – be ready to go for help if necessary."

Joe snorted derisively. "Helpless little _wahine_ , huh?" he gibed. Vanessa swatted him.

Fenton was nodding in agreement. "It's a workable idea," he conceded. "Especially if I'm waiting even further down the beach."

"WE are waiting further down the beach," Laura put in firmly, reaching for her husband's hand.

"You two and I will be waiting further down the beach, you mean." Megan's voice rang out sharply in the quiet hotel room.

Fenton nodded at her – and smiled approvingly.

#####

At nine-thirty that night, Joe donned jeans, a t-shirt and rubber flip-flops, and headed for the beach, where he was shortly joined by Vanessa. They walked with what they hoped appeared to be calm confidence in the direction Quint had indicated. Once they left the immediate vicinity of the hotel, there were no lights along the shoreline, and were left with only the bright tropical stars and a half-phase moon to light their way. Joe took out his tiny halogen pocket flash and switched it on, appreciating the circle of bluish light it cast. They strolled on, knowing that Laura, Megan and Fenton were not that far behind them.

After trudging along the hard-packed sand at the edge of the water for approximately twenty minutes, Vanessa broke away and took up a seated position on the sand. Joe began to look for the cottage Quint had described. It wasn't that hard to find; it was nestled among a grove of the almond and mango trees which grew profusely along the shorelines. Joe used the flashlight sparingly, just enough to locate the gate with its lockbox and punch in the code Quint had given him. The lock clicked open; Joe went through the gate and ascended the short flight of steps to the front door of the beach-front cabin.

With his heart beating hard in his chest, Joe turned on his flashlight and entered the building.

It was, as it had been described, just a cabin. One story high, perhaps 500 square feet total. Windows on three sides of the main room, but most of them were covered with rolled bamboo shades. As far as Joe could tell, it was decorated in homey comfort, with two upholstered loveseat sofas, flanked by small tables, and a larger one in between, and some built-in bookshelves on one wall. A door in the one wall without windows led, Joe suspected, to a kitchen area, and probably the bathroom, but he didn't move to investigate. He switched off the little light.

"Quint?"

There was a rustling sound in the dimness, but no other answer. Joe waited a beat, then tried again:

"Quint? You here?"

"I'm here," the Hawaiian youth replied at last. He moved out of the shadowed back doorway, into a bar of moonlight which came in through one of the partially-shaded windows. "Wanted to make sure you were alone. Can't be too careful." He took another step or two and gestured towards the sofas. "Have a seat."

Joe bit down on his impulse to shake answers out of the tall boy. _I've got to let him take the lead here; otherwise we might never find Frank!_ He seated himself on the nearest loveseat, and watched as Quint mirrored his action on the other. "So – talk," he invited.

"This will take awhile," Quint said. "So you're gonna have to be patient, _brah_. Got it? I gotta explain a lot of things, so you understand."

Joe nodded, stifling his impatience as best he could. "Okay."

"Hawaii is a land of myth and legend," Quint began, sounding almost dreamy, "and I've always been attracted to those legends. The stories of Kamehameha – the tales of our Lady Goddess Pelè, in the before-time, when the _kapu_ was in effect – and the traditions of our people – the hula, the fire-dances, the luaus. People think they are just for entertainment now, but they are all rooted in traditional ceremonies. I think since I was very young I dreamed of being a member of the _aliì_ , the royalty, the chiefs of Hawaii – perhaps of being a _kahuna,_ a high priest."

Joe shifted a little, wishing he dared interrupt and demand that Quint cut to the chase.

"I admit that I actively sought out those who believed as I did," Quint went on, "that Hawaii was ruined when the others came from the mainland, with their missionaries and their customs, and their own rules – and the _kapu_ was ended. I always dreamt of that time before..."

Quint paused, and Joe heard him swallow nervously in the darkness.

"There is a prophecy," the Hawaiian youth said at last. "I have heard it many times – it's in Hawaiian, of course – give me a minute to translate."

The silence stretched into several minutes, and Joe grew more and more impatient. What did Quint's dreams of Hawaii-for-Hawaiians and old prophecies have to do with Frank?

And then the young Hawaiian began to speak. His voice rose and fell in a hypnotic chant:

 _"The islands will be desecrated_

 _And Pelè will show her discontent._

 _The one will come,_

 _Child of the kings of old,_

 _Pure of blood._

 _He shall be a leader_

 _And bestow unto Pelè her beloved._

 _Hair as the crow's, dark of eye is the beloved._

 _He shall know no woman's touch._

 _From outside shall he enter,_

 _To the fire shall he be given._

 _To Pelè shall he fly,_

 _And be blessed and blessed of men,_

 _The Islands shall be purified_

 _And the flame will burn no more."_

Quint's voice died away, and in the soft moonlight Joe could see he had opened his eyes.

"What does that mean?" Joe asked harshly.

"It means this, Joe Hardy – there is a faction in the Islands which is against the 'taint of the _haole_ , the _malihini'_ – the outsiders. People such as yourself. They've – we've – got a leader who claims to be descended from Kamehameha the Great, and he has chosen Frank to be the sacrifice to Lady Pelè – as her beloved. He intends, Joe, to give your brother to the volcano!"


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Sarai, Cherylann and Max2013, for leaving feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 19

Frank Hardy drifted from unconsciousness into a foggy stupor, and shifted positions – or tried to. He emitted a muffled groan at the movement. His stomach roiled with nausea. Instinctively, he tried to bring his hands to his stomach, hoping to stifle the impulse to lose everything he'd eaten recently, but his arms refused to cooperate. He struggled weakly in an unsuccessful attempt to loosen his bonds. Nothing gave.

 _I am in deep trouble,_ he thought. _Where am I? How did I get here?_ Trying his hardest to remember details, he started with the basics. _Who_ _am I?_ Slowly the information filtered through _. I'm Frank Hardy. I live in Bayport, on Elm Street. I have a brother...Joe. Mom and Dad – Laura and Fenton Hardy. And...Megan!_

Beyond giving up these sketchy details, the fog in his head was refusing to budge. Frank tried to shake his head, hoping to clear it, but found it felt too heavy to even lift from the floor. Assuming it _was_ a floor, that is. It was much too hard to be a bed, even one with a really firm mattress!

He opened his eyes, but all he saw was darkness, with a faint flickering of light at the edges of his vision. So...he was evidently blindfolded. His mouth felt overstuffed and dry – okay, he was gagged, as well. He could feel something soft and cottony against his tongue; at least the gag wasn't cruel...but it was effective.

 _Deep, deep trouble._ The thought pounded into his head. _Frank, you are in so much trouble, here...but where are you? And why?_

His memories were still being buffered and cocooned by the clinging fogginess inside his head; he couldn't quite wrap his brain around what was going on. Solid facts seemed to have become slippery as quicksilver; they slid away and dissolved just as he thought he had a grasp on them. Desperately, he tried again. Something to fasten on, to give him a place to start. Anything...What had he been doing before he was...here?

 _Sand...water. Sunshine, too-bright sunshine. Megan...Megan. Me and Megan, on a beach._

 _Hawaii._

Memory flooded back, giving him the details almost too quickly. He'd come to Hawaii with his family and his girlfriend – his almost-fiancée – and his brother's girlfriend. Vanessa. They'd come because of his father's work. It was New Year's Day. And apparently, he'd gotten kidnapped.

Again.

He shivered, despite the warm air which enveloped him. Although Hawaii wasn't necessarily scorchingly hot, wherever he was at the moment was quite warm.

 _Kidnapped._

Frank concentrated fiercely, trying to reconstruct the events which had led up to his kidnapping. He had to hope that it hadn't taken place all that long ago, that he hadn't lost...days. But all he seemed to dredge up was the visuals of sand and water and bright sunshine which seemed to beat into his head and make it throb. And Megan...Megan was there, but then...then, she was gone, leaving him nothing but sun and sand and the subdued shush of waves on the beach.

 _Come on, Hardy, you're better than this!_ He gritted his teeth – or tried to, despite the gag, and fought for those elusive memories.

Images flitted through his brain. A classroom – no, not quite, but something very like a classroom. A large number of people sitting in chairs and taking notes and listening to a lecture. Had he been kidnapped from school? _No, that's silly, I don't go to school in Hawaii!_

So...he did remember coming here, vaguely recalled an airplane flight with his parents and Joe and Vanessa and Megan, although details were largely absent – and that in itself was unsettling. But he remembered it; it was real. That meant that he'd been kidnapped after he had arrived in Hawaii.

 _Help!_ he called mentally, wishing suddenly for some miraculous superpower that would allow him to contact Joe or his father. _Help! Come get me out of here!_ Wherever 'here' was...

Again he tried to struggle with his bonds, desisting when his nausea immediately increased. He knew he couldn't allow himself to throw up with that gag in his mouth; he'd choke to death. But the movement of the floor made it almost inevitable; it was so unsteady and unstable, and it...vibrated.

A second later he realized what it was. He wasn't on a floor, he was in a vehicle of some kind. A truck, or perhaps a large van. Another vehicle – he'd been in one before; perhaps the same one, and now he was in it again. And it was moving. He was being transported...somewhere.

The utter darkness of unconsciousness claimed him between one thought and the next, and he drifted, unseeing, unthinking...unknowing.

#####

Brushing a hand through his blonde hair, Joe Hardy sank back into the chair, grateful for its placement, for otherwise he most certainly would have fallen to the floor. He glared through the gloom at Quint, staring hard, and as the other man looked back, Joe saw the pain in his somber dark gaze – and he shivered. Quint's eyes glittered briefly, caught in the moonlight, and then he leaned back and shadows obscured his face again.

Joe sat speechless for a moment or two, waiting, he knew, for Quint to leap up and yell "April Fool!" or the Hawaiian equivalent. To laugh and tell him this was nothing but a joke, a practical joke played by Hawaiian locals, on naïve tourists who came to the islands, and wasn't it _funny_ that Joe had fallen for it? A stupid New Year's Day prank.

But Quint remained still. He sat there, waiting and watching, his eyes hidden in the dimness. Waiting for Joe to respond.

"Could you...repeat that?" Joe finally rasped. "Just for the...dumb...among us. Because I'm sure I didn't hear you right."

Quint sighed. "You're not dumb, Joe," he said softly. "And you heard right. They're going to sacrifice your brother. Sacrifice him to the Goddess Pelè – by throwing him into the volcano."

 _If this is a joke, Quint's carrying it too far!_ Joe rubbed at his ears and shook his head in disbelief, still unable to comprehend that the other man was deadly serious. "Do people really do that in Hawaii?" he asked blankly, feeling stunned. "Sacrifice other people to...deities?" He'd seen the fire dances and the hulas at the luau; he'd listened to the stories and legends, he'd even participated in a native ritual or two, but...sacrifice? Human sacrifice? The concept was so foreign he couldn't grasp it. And even if he could understand in theory – connecting the bizarre idea with _Frank_...no, that didn't compute, not at all!

"Well..." Quint shrugged, the movement only half-visible in the moonlight's soft glow. Joe found he could see the young Hawaiian quite clearly now; his eyes had adjusted to the dimness in the cottage. "It's not so much that Hawaiians believe in sacrifice – human or other – at least, not all of them. Or even believe that sacrifice is an appropriate way to show appreciation to Pelè. It's not," he emphasized, "one of the more common practices for worshipping her. Most people assume that if The Goddess wants a sacrifice, she has the ability to find that person and bring him to her on her own. Lady Pelè is nothing if not...assertive," he added with a small chuckle. "But yes. There are some people – native Hawaiians, pure-blooded Hawaiians – who do believe that the way to restore their land, to bring back the ways of the past, is to try and appease Pelè whether she needs it or not. After all, the fires of the volcano have been burning for many years. Therefore, the Goddess is still angry – or so they believe. It is hoped that this ultimate sacrifice will finally soothe her."

Joe stared at the weathered floorboards in silence. He wanted desperately to disbelieve him, but the awful reality of Quint's words was sinking in. He shivered again, feeling as if something cold and slimy was slithering up and down his spine, and he clenched and unclenched his hands several times, trying to calm down. _It's just so weird...Sacrifice. They're going to sacrifice Frank to a volcano..._ He blinked and looked up at Quint as the true meaning struck home. "They going to kill him!"

"Yes." The single word dropped into the stillness like a stone disappearing beneath the surface of a pond.

"Okay – what do you know?" Suddenly Joe had snapped out of his disbelieving detachment, and he wanted answers. He wanted them now, and he shot questions at Quint like so many bullets. "What else? Where is this going to happen? When? How long do we have to find Frank before this...this execution...takes place? Who's behind it? And...why are you telling me this?"

Quint answered slowly, taking the questions in order. "I know only what I've told you already, Joe. It is going to happen at Kilauea, but the exact location is unknown, except to the _Kahuna_. It will happen some time in the next two nights. Not tonight, but perhaps as early as tomorrow night. The leader has his own timetable, and he does not share it with mere acolytes."

"That's what you are – an acolyte?" Joe spat.

"I was," Quint answered steadily. "So...you have two days at the most. I don't know who the _Kahuna_ is. He's always masked, always in shadows when we meet with him. It is not our place to see the face of the Chosen of Pelè. He's a large man, though," Dante added. "That much I can tell you. I wish I knew more. As for why I'm telling you...well, I was asked to befriend you, to act as a spy. I didn't know why, then. When I found out...I didn't want anything more to do with it. Because...we were friends, by then."

Joe nodded shakily. His mind was still spinning. _Human sacrifice...Hawaii...Frank...human sacrifice..._ And then one thought solidified: _If this is true, I've got to get back to Dad! Immediately_. Searching all of Volcanoes National Park could take days – and they didn't _have_ days. _We've got to get started!_ "Quint, I'll keep my word – I'll do my best to keep your name out of it, as long as you don't do anything else to endanger the case – but I've got to get back! I've got to tell my father—"

"I know," Quint said. "And I won't do anything else to...to cause any harm to Frank. In fact," he said, rising to his feet with a mirthless little laugh, "I'm leaving the island myself. I've got to get away as soon as possible – otherwise I don't stand a chance in hell, _brah_! Pelè's version, or anyone else's! The _Kahuna Nui_ won't forgive this kind of transgression."

Joe stood too, and extended his hand. "Thank you. Thank you for taking this chance," he whispered. Quint had essentially put his life on the line by doing this. He was risking a great deal in his effort to help, trying to atone for what he had done, and Joe knew it.

He felt a brief, hard pressure on his fingers, and then Quint was gone, slipping into the shadows of the cottage and disappearing. Joe assumed he'd gone out the back, the way he'd come in.

 _Now I've got to do the impossible. I've got to convince Dad that this isn't some sort of hoax, that it's for real. He won't want to believe it...human sacrifice..._ Joe made his way to the front door and let himself out, closing it carefully behind him, then walked down the beach towards the place he had parted from Vanessa.

His girlfriend was sitting cross-legged on the sand, watching his approach. She stood and smiled hopefully as Joe neared, but when she saw the expression on his face, her smile faded. "Not good?"

"Not good, babe. I'll tell you what Quint said when we get back to the hotel. It'll be easier if I...I just can't go over it more than once, okay?" He took her hand and pulled her close, clinging to her warmth. "And I need some time...time to get my head back together."

"Whatever you need, baby." Vanessa held him tightly for a long moment before releasing him. Clasping hands, they moved on, going to locate Megan, who was waiting further down the beach.

The little redhead stood at their approach, and searched Joe's face anxiously. Whatever she saw there told her the news was not encouraging. "Joe...?"

"I'll tell you back at the hotel, Red. Come on." Joe wrapped his free arm about her shoulders and steered her in the appropriate direction. He kept his arm there, trying to comfort her with the embrace. _How is Megan going to stand hearing this? Frank's just asked her to marry him – sort of – they have their whole lives ahead of them. And now..._ They walked on, feet scuffling through the soft sand, in despondent silence.

Closer to the hotel, then found Fenton and Laura, waiting to hear the outcome of Joe's meeting with Quint. Urgent questions spilled from both parents' lips, but Joe simply stared at them blankly until they stopped speaking.

"Please, let's go inside before I get into it," he begged. He hated the tension his words caused; he could see his mother's shoulders stiffen, and the worried furrow in his father's brow, but he couldn't help that now. He'd tell them in the hotel and not before...he had to get inside before he let himself shatter...

They were all silent as they made their way inside. Joe looked at his watch and saw that it was already past midnight. _Already tomorrow..._ He was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally, and for a moment he had an intense desire to simply go into his hotel room, crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head and sleep – or hide – until all this incredible situation resolved itself and went away. _You can't, Hardy, so suck it up and deal!_ He could see a clock in his head, ticking inexorably and telling him 'This is how long Frank has to live.' He kept putting one foot in front of the other, plodding mechanically along until they reached his parents' suite.

Laura used her keycard and opened the door, pushing it open and leading the way inside. Joe, still clinging desperately to Vanessa's hand, waited for Megan and his father to enter, then followed them. He made his way to the loveseat and immediately sagged down on it, pulling Vanessa with him, and laid his head on her shoulder for a brief moment. He was dimly aware of his parents and Megan sitting down as well.

"Let's hear it, son." Fenton's voice was even and soothing, but not to be disregarded. "What did you find out?"

Joe straightened up and drew in a long breath. It was so hard to get started; even though he knew every second was vital, and he needed to tell his father as quickly as possible. He didn't dare to meet anyone's eyes; he couldn't risk breaking down now. "Quint is...was...a member of a cult," he began. "A cult of native Hawaiian-islanders that worship Pelè, and want to return to the old ways. Like before the white men came to the islands. The members want to...to..." he had to stop and think for a moment, to try and figure out the best way to phrase it. "They want to bring back something called...' _kapu_.'"

To Joe's surprise, Fenton nodded, seeming to recognize the word. "The old taboos," the detective commented.

"Right...yeah, that's it," Joe agreed. "Anyway...they seem to think they need to appease Pelè because the volcano has been erupting for such a long time. They think maybe if they bring back _kapu_ , that would stop the volcanic eruptions. And...and...that means...a sacrifice to her."

Joe heard a soft gasp from Megan, and he saw her mouth drop open in shock _. Smart girl, Red; wish you weren't quite so quick on the uptake,_ he thought, knowing her mind had already leaped ahead and figured out what he was about to say. Over her shoulder Joe saw his father's dark eyes widen with horrified comprehension as Fenton, too, anticipated his next words.

"Quint said...he said..." Joe had to stop and clear his throat, which seemed determined to clog up on him. Laura rose and brought him a glass of water, which he drank gratefully, thankful for the brief reprieve. "The cult is behind Frank's kidnapping," he continued at last. "They intend to use him as the ultimate sacrifice to Pelè...they're going to give him to Kilauea...to the volcano."

Laura emitted a choked "NO!" and then turned in her husband's arms, clinging tightly to him as he embraced her, bending his dark head close to her blonde one. Vanessa stared at Joe in stunned silence, almost as if she hadn't taken in the import of his words – or if they had robbed her of all ability to move or speak. But it was Megan's face that Joe saw most clearly, and seeing it robbed the younger Hardy of nearly all his composure. The bleak despair in her long-lashed turquoise eyes – the way those eyes filled with tears, spilling over and down her white face, and the nearly-inaudible whisper: "Oh, Frank...oh, Frank, my darling...please...no...don't leave me alone..." The way she turned away and curled in on herself, shielding her face with her hands as her body shook with sobs of desolation.

Joe wanted to go to her, try and comfort her, but he was afraid if he moved at all, he would break down totally as well. All he could do was clutch Vanessa's hands so tightly he wondered later that he hadn't broken the fragile bones, and ache down to his very soul as he watched Megan's complete and utter heartbreak.

###

Unsurprisingly, it was Fenton who pulled himself together first. "Right," he said at last, his deep voice a hoarse rasp. "Okay. We have to treat this like any other kidnapping where we have a deadline before the victim is killed." He looked down at his wife, still encircled in his arms, as she made an involuntary sound of protest at his cool detachment. "I have to handle it this way, Laura," he reminded her. "Otherwise I don't think I can...otherwise, we have no chance at all."

"I know," she whispered, nodding against his shirtfront.

"We have more information than we would for any other kidnapping," Fenton went on, still in that calm, detached voice, "so that part is good. We can narrow our search down to a specific area – the volcano – rather than having to search the whole island."

Seeing his father's analytical approach bolstered Joe; rather than looking at it as cold-blooded indifference to Frank's plight, it gave him something concrete to tie to, something to concentrate on. Despite the fact that it was _Frank_ who was going to be sacrificed to the fiery Goddess, it was still a case of kidnapping. Perhaps it wasn't for ransom, but still, there were similarities. Focusing on the familiar routine was, as Fenton had reminded Laura, the best way to handle it. It let them function.

Fenton now reached for the telephone, and retrieved a tiny pad of paper from his shirt pocket. Leafing through it hastily, he dialed a number. "McCullough? This is Hardy," he snapped a few moments later, when the phone was answered. Joe wondered if the Five-0 agent was even fully awake. "We have a major lead in my son's kidnapping case. You wouldn't happen to be interested in coming down here, would you?"

He made two more similar calls – to Chief Pauahi and to Captain Masukoko – before he turned away from the telephone and surveyed the other occupants of the room. Joe and Vanessa were still seated on the loveseat, still holding hands as though they had no intentions of ever letting go. Laura had gone to Megan and drawn her into a comforting embrace, rocking her a little, smoothing her disheveled red-gold hair and murmuring soothingly to her, and Fenton moved to put his arm about his wife as well.

"Megan..." Joe whispered, although not knowing whether or not the girl heard him, "We'll get him back. We'll get Frank back for you. I promise." He was promising himself as much as her, he realized. They _would_ get Frank back. There was simply no other choice.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai, Candylou and Max2013, for leaving feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By

EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 20

 _All right, McCullough, just remember how much you love your job..._ The tall, blonde Hawaii-5-0 lieutenant sighed deeply as he rolled out of bed. Squinting in the light of the bedside lamp, he reached for his discarded jeans, flung haphazardly on the floor the night before, and plopped back down on the bed to pull them on. _Didn't get to bed until midnight...now Hardy calls me at two a.m._ Grunting with the effort of making his sleep-deprived body obey, he staggered to his feet and headed for the bathroom, still trying to focus.

He splashed cool water on his face in an effort to make his heavy eyelids stay up, and blinked at his reflection in the mirror. _God, McCullough, you look like hell, you know?_ He splashed more water, attempting to organize his thoughts. Hardy had information – information on his son's kidnapping, apparently provided by his other son, the underage detective-wannabe...

Okay, that wasn't really fair. _Pull it together, Dylan...Joe Hardy's not pulling something, you know that. He's really worried about his brother, and he thinks he's found something. It's worth your time...aaaghhh, is it worth the lack of SLEEP, though?_ He dried off his face and sighed, resolving to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. It was just that he really didn't care for working with civilians – not teenaged ones, at any rate! There were some in the department who did it on a regular basis – snitches, and such, they were always in demand, naturally – but McCullough preferred to go it alone whenever possible. _Joe Hardy's almost as old as some police rookies,_ the little voice in his head reminded him. _He's not a little kid playing cops and robbers._ He sighed, silently acknowledging the truth of that.

 _Face it, it's not really your case anyway! You got yanked in because you're the Hardy family's liaison here. And they're nice people who didn't deserve this, and you're going to help...but why does it have to be at two in the morning?_ He shuffled out of the bathroom, marginally more awake, and found his flip-flops and a shirt that, although it had been worn, wasn't too offensive, then trudged down the hall to the elevator. When it slid open, he shambled in and punched the button for the Hardys' floor, grateful that they were at least in the same hotel. Stairs might have been faster, but when only half-awake, the elevator made more sense; he'd risk falling and breaking his neck if he tried stairs in this condition!

When the elevator car stopped after only going one floor, McCullough let out a snarl, and glared at the intruder – until he realized it was Chief Kimo Pauahi who was getting on.

"McCullough," Pauahi grunted. "Hardy called you too, eh?"

"Uh-huh." The lieutenant's eyes snapped to the steaming cup Pauahi held, and he had to bite back another snarl...or a whimper. _Damn police chiefs and theirdamned access to coffee, no matter what time it is!_ For a moment Dylan debated stealing it, but decided he might get hurt if he tried. Pauahi was a big guy, and the way he was savoring each sip probably meant he'd fight for possession of the coffee. Dylan sighed and tried not to look too pitiful as he inhaled the tantalizing fragrance. _Kona macadamia-nut blend..._

Lieutenant McCullough followed the chief – and his coffee – down the corridor to the suite Hardy was sharing with his wife. _Kids have their own rooms,_ he recalled. _Boys on the same side as their parents; girls across the hall._

Pauahi knocked on the door and they waited for it to be answered. After a moment or two the door was opened, by the little redhead who was Frank Hardy's girlfriend. _Megan,_ McCullough reminded himself. _Her name's Megan. Poor kid_. She looked pale, obviously shaken by the recent events, but she managed a smile for the two officers.

"Chief Pauahi – Lieutenant McCullough. Come in, please," she invited in a muted voice, and stepped back to allow them entry.

" _Mahalo_ , _keiki_ ," Pauahi rumbled, and Dylan McCullough grinned a little at the notion of the big police chief referring to Megan as 'child.' She probably wouldn't appreciate it...but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and he didn't know how knowledgeable she was in Hawaiian phrases.

He followed Pauahi into the room and gently patted Megan's shoulder in passing. He wasn't quite sure why he did it, but it felt like the right thing to do. He sank into the nearest chair with a sigh.

"Lieutenant? Coffee?" Laura Hardy, her blonde hair tousled and her face pale with fatigue, was standing in front of him, holding out a mug.

"Bless you, Mrs. Hardy!" Gratefully, he accepted the cup and took a sip of the steaming brew, then another, deeper, swallow. _Oh God, Kona Hazelnut Cream_..."Thank you," he murmured, wrapping his fingers about the warmth of the mug. "I needed this...thank you, _mahalo, mahalo_!"

She chuckled a little. "You're very welcome, Lieutenant. And it's Laura."

"Dylan," he corrected absently, and took another blissful gulp of liquid ambrosia. As Mrs. Hardy moved away, Dylan looked around the room, taking note of the occupants. The younger son, Joe, was there, lounging on the long sofa with his girlfriend, tall blonde Vanessa. McCullough nodded to them both as he sipped his coffee. He blinked several times, trying to convince himself that he was, in actuality, wide awake, and could remain so the rest of the night and all day tomorrow, if need be. _But this had better not be a wild goose chase!_ He noted that Chief Pauahi had seated himself in one of the chairs by the round table, as had Fenton Hardy and his wife. Megan was curled in a corner of the couch near Vanessa, wrapped in a blanket.

"Did you call anyone else?" Pauahi was asking now, and Dylan jerked his attention back to the immediate present.

"I called Captain Masukoko," Fenton said. "I'd like to wait for him before we tell you what Joe found out. He's at a different hotel now – I don't think he's gotten over the loss of his car yet," he added with a wry chuckle.

"He said he was moving to another hotel," Pauahi agreed. "He was supposed to go back to Kona yesterday, but after what happened – the murder of the maid, and now your son's disappearance – he decided to stay on here awhile longer. We agreed – Aaron, Dylan and myself," he amplified, with a nod at McCullough, "that we'd work together to find your son, despite the fact that I'm the only one of us actually from Hilo."

"That's very kind of you," Laura murmured, and the big police chief gave her a reassuring smile.

"5-0's on it," Dylan averred, and took another gulp of coffee.

"Granted, but 5-0 is like the state police in any other state – or perhaps they might be compared to the Texas Rangers," Pauahi said mildly. "Sometimes it's easier to work through local connections." He sighed. "Since it's a kidnapping, we should be calling in the F.B.I., of course." He didn't sound happy about it.

"True," Fenton concurred – and he didn't sound happy about it either.

"Damn Fibbies," McCullough grumped. He took a closer look at Fenton. The dark-haired private detective appeared exhausted, worried and unhappy – naturally enough – and yet, despite it all, he looked determined – and lethal. Dylan decided that he wouldn't want to be on the opposite side in any dealings with Fenton Hardy. He suspected that the reputation the man possessed was truer than he'd imagined.

###

A quiet knock sounded on the suite door a few minutes later, and Laura opened it to admit Captain Masukoko, who was carrying his own cardboard container of coffee, and a pineapple Danish. He greeted his fellow police officers and the Hardy group, and seated himself on the couch between Megan and Vanessa. He smiled at the sad-eyed little redhead and broke off a piece of pastry to offer her. She took it with a reluctant smile.

"Okay, we're all here." Dylan took the lead in calling them officially to order. "So what's up?"

Joe leaned forward. His expression was one of unhappiness, but his determination matched his father's. "I've found out a few things," he said.

McCullough surveyed him closely. Despite the difference in coloration, he could see more than a smattering of Fenton Hardy in his younger son. Although the blonde hair and blue eyes made Joe resemble his mother, his bone structure and the shape of his facial features marked him as Fenton's.

"I was able to talk to someone earlier tonight," Joe continued, oblivious of Dylan's scrutiny. "I promised I wouldn't reveal his identity, though – it was the only way I could get him to talk to me – and I'm not going to back down on that, so don't bother asking me to."

McCullough scowled. He hated protecting informants – but for the moment, he'd let it go. He noticed that Captain Masukoko and Chief Pauahi also looked a little perturbed, but neither of them said anything.

Joe sighed. "The person I talked to," he said, "admitted to belonging to a cult. A cult that worships the Goddess Pelè. It's apparently a group that wants to bring back the old ways to Hawaii, something called... _kapu_?" The inflection of his voice indicated a question.

Chief Pauahi nodded. "Means forbidden," he said. "It's ancient tradition. Codes of conduct, basically. An offense that was _k_ _apu_ was often a corporal offense, but also often denoted a threat to spiritual power, or theft of _mana_. _Kapus_ were strictly enforced. Breaking one, even unintentionally, often meant immediate death," he explained.

"The person I talked to said that he favored this, but that he didn't favor the way the leader of the cult was going about it. Which was why he was willing to talk to me."

Dylan narrowed his eyes. "What sort of rubbish are you talking about?" he demanded. Expecting his fellow officers to be equally irritated, he was surprised to see both Pauahi and Masukoko exchanging somber – and knowing – glances. "What?" he snapped at them, but Masukoko lifted a hand to quell the impatient lieutenant.

"There's no easy way for me to say this," Joe continued in a dead voice. "Apparently the group's plan is to make an offering to Pelè within the next two days. They're intending to appease the goddess by sacrificing Frank to her – by way of the Kilauea volcano!"

"What the hell?" Dylan flew out of his seat in fury. "What kind of crap is this?" Were these people completely nuts? Why would the Hardys believe something like this...this...lunacy!?

But Joe didn't back down. He gave the 5-0 detective a smoldering glare from narrowed blue eyes. "I'm just telling you what I was told," he said, "and I don't have any reason not to believe what he said. Even if it's a totally nutso idea – and I agree that it is, Lieutenant – that doesn't mean that someone might not do it!"

Dylan glared back, thoroughly incensed. "Nobody in their right mind would believe something like this!" he fumed. "There hasn't been any sign of cult behavior in Hawaii in decades!" The unmistakable sound of a cleared throat caught his attention, and he glanced over at Chief Pauahi, hoping for corroboration. The big man was scowling, all right – but at _him_!

"Don't fool yourself, McCullough," he rumbled.

Dylan frowned. "Chief, you don't truly believe..."

"Actually, yes. I do," Pauahi admitted. "There are factions that would love to bring back the ancient system of laws in the Islands. You can't tell me you aren't aware of the _heiau,_ Lieutenant. Surely you've heard of them, if not seen one. They aren't all just places of worship. There are also ancient temples in the back hills – the _luakini_ , the ones used for human sacrifices. And they haven't all been destroyed."

"But...human sacrifice...?" McCullough protested.

"There's always been a small group that opposed progress, seeing it as something stripping the natural beauty from the islands – and they make some valid points," the chief allowed. "Although I can't think that logically, human sacrifice would be a way to bring about what they want – especially a sacrifice to Pelè, who might be rash and a little vengeful, but not overly vicious – it's not completely out of the realm of possibility."

"They think it will make the volcano stop erupting," Joe put in wearily, and Pauahi snorted, shaking his head.

Dylan flung himself back into his chair, seething...and perturbed. "I can't believe anybody would believe something like that!" he exclaimed. "Who would want to bring back something that archaic? Human sacrifice..."

Aaron Masukoko leaned forward, elbows on knees and fingers steepled together. "I have heard," he said softly, "something...about a cult group that's growing in power. I didn't give it much credit, or thought – despite what you think, McCullough, there's always been some small factions out there that believe the old ways are the best, and want to return to those ways. Most of them are harmless. They protest, they complain – but they are also quick to take advantage of the life offered to most Islanders, including modern conveniences. But this one group – the one I'm thinking of – seems to be able to work around the dichotomy of modern conveniences versus traditional ways, and it's growing in power and influence because of that. I hadn't considered doing anything about it; they weren't doing anything illegal. But now...maybe there's something more to it."

"Is there any way you can get hold of a cult member?" Fenton asked eagerly. "There has to be some way to ask them—"

"Dad, I've already talked to a cult member, remember?" Joe interposed in desperation. "The important thing is searching the volcano area – that's where they're going to be taking Frank, if they haven't already!"

"That's harder than it sounds, Joe," Chief Pauahi said, shaking his head. "Volcanoes National Park is a very large area, and there are many, many places a person could be brought in by a group intending on making a sacrifice. I have a feeling – assuming this is all true – that they would use the caldera, but even so, it's not like you can just drive up there and dump someone in!" A choked gasp came from Megan's corner of the couch at that, and Chief Pauahi gave her an apologetic look. "My apologies, _keiki_ ," he added.

"There must be another reason, another explanation," McCullough insisted. "How do you know, Joe, that this person you talked to wasn't just feeding you a line of BS – something to throw you off the trail?" He cast wildly for a logical substitution. "You were checking into that rash of carjackings," he suggested. "Could that have anything to do with it?"

Joe opened his mouth to refute this idea, then closed it without saying anything, and pursed his lips together.

"What is it?" Vanessa asked.

"Maybe nothing..." Joe rubbed his hand over his mouth thoughtfully. "But Frank and I went to the docks, down in the industrial waterfront area, a couple of days ago. We just wanted to look around a little, get an idea if possibly stolen cars could be taken off the island by ship, or hidden in the warehouses nearby. While we were there, Frank saw something kind of odd in one of the warehouses..."

"What was it?" McCullough demanded.

"In boxes marked 'pineapples'," Joe explained, "there were actually artifacts. Not fruit at all. We assumed that someone was smuggling them."

"What sort of artifacts?" Pauahi wanted to know.

Joe shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't see them; Frank did. I know where the warehouse is, though," he went on. "Maybe the cult followers take artifacts to...to...I don't know, to keep them safe from treasure hunters or something like that? Maybe they could be keeping Frank in a warehouse – before they take him to...to the...the volcano," he stammered.

 _Damn, he really does believe his brother's going to be tossed into a volcano!_ Dylan thought with a pang of regret. _It's way too far-fetched to be believed...but the artifacts angle might have some merit. It's at least a more substantial lead._ He offered this last opinion out loud.

"We can't do anything right at this moment," Kimo Pauahi stated decisively, rising to his feet. "We can't start a search of either a warehouse or a volcano in the dark. I'll make some calls, and we'll get a team into Volcanoes National Park first thing in the morning, as soon as it's light. And we can go to the warehouse Joe saw, and check that out ourselves. In fact, I'll send a unit to keep an eye on the dock area overnight. But right now, we need to get some sleep. All of us. No one will be of any use at all, if we don't."

"I agree." Dylan manfully tried to stifle his yawn at the mention of going back to bed. Inside he still was doubtful about sending a team to the national park, but he wasn't going to argue with Chief Pauahi about it. He could feel a headache growing behind his eyes, and knew he needed some sleep – at least a couple of hours!

"I'm going to call a few people at Kona," Masukoko announced, "and see if I can get any more information about the cult activity." He stood up.

McCullough rose to his feet too, as did Fenton and Laura. The three youngest members of the group remained on the couch, watching their elders somberly. "Let's say we meet back here at seven o'clock, then," he decreed, and received nods from all in reply. "And the search will be on!"


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Candylou, Sarai and Max2013, for leaving feedback.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 21

Joe awoke early, finding himself abruptly blinking up at the dimly visible ceiling. One moment sound asleep, the next wide awake. He rolled his head on the pillow and located the red LED numbers on the bedside clock radio. _6:45_. Fifteen minutes until the seven a.m. meeting started.

 _Good thing I woke up!_

He hadn't thought he would sleep – too concerned about Frank's absence, too aware of the passage of time – a sort of Doomsday Clock ticking away in the back of his mind. Somehow, he knew there wasn't a whole lot of time left to spare – he knew that they needed to find Frank. _Soon_. _Today._

He threw back the blankets and swung himself out of bed, heading into the bathroom for a fast shower. A few minutes later he emerged, toweling off his hair. Clean underwear and socks – okay, the jeans from yesterday were fine – and a clean blue t-shirt. Hiking boots – because, damn it, they needed to search Volcanoes National Park, and he wasn't going to be left behind for lack of suitable footwear!

 _Six-fifty-eight_. Stuffing wallet and key card into his pocket, Joe exited the hotel room. He traversed the short distance to his parents' room and knocked for admittance.

"Good morning, honey, come in." Laura swung the door wider and stepped back. "There's coffee and some rolls..." She waved vaguely towards the table as Joe walked past, already drawn towards the seductive aroma of coffee.

Chief Pauahi was already there, leaning over the table and scanning a map. Sitting beside it were a cup of coffee and a Danish pastry on a paper napkin. Fenton was there too, looking very tired. To Joe's surprise, his father was wearing his shoulder holster – he hadn't even been aware that Fenton had brought the weapon to Hawaii! _I'll bet Dad didn't sleep at all – even though he could've grabbed four hours or so, between last night's meeting and now._ _Oh heck, Dad's gone without sleep before, during cases – probably for days,_ Joe told himself. _It isn't likely he'll lose any efficiency from lack of sleep now!_

Another knock on the door heralded the arrival of Megan and Vanessa, neither wearing much makeup, both looking pale and heavy-eyed. They were each dressed for action, Vanessa in jeans and a t-shirt, Megan in black slacks and a long-sleeved denim button-down shirt. Vanessa's hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail. She moved across the room to give Joe a brief good-morning kiss; Megan stopped to accept a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll from Laura, then settled down on the sofa to listen to the conversation.

"I have a team already at the park," Pauahi mentioned casually, as he continued to trace lines on his map. "And the park rangers have been alerted. They'll set up search sectors for the park, of course – but that will take too long to search, with the amount of personnel we have at our disposal. Lieutenant McCullough is going to arrange for some more 5-0 officers, though..."

Joe frowned slightly at this mention of the liaison officer from Honolulu. He actually liked and admired McCullough, and had from the time they met – but he wasn't at all happy with the police lieutenant's cavalier attitude towards himself...and Frank. _Just because I'm young, is that any reason to doubt what I'm saying? I'm not a newbie by any stretch of the imagination – damn it, I've got credibility! Ask Chief Collig! Ask Con Riley! Ask DAD, for Pete's sake!_ He sighed and nibbled moodily on a blueberry-swirl pastry. _Still, I suppose I just have to earn his respect just like anyone else would. And I_ _will_ _earn it...one way or another._

As if thinking about Dylan McCullough had conjured up the man, he knocked on the door of the suite scarcely two minutes later. He was accompanied by Captain Masukoko, and both men were carrying small white paper bags and cups with Starbucks logos. Masukoko was neatly dressed in slacks and a Hawaiian-print shirt; for once Dylan looked more like a police officer than a beach bum, as he was wearing jeans and a shirt with the '5-O' insignia on the front, plus sturdy low boots.

"Didn't we just leave this place?" McCullough yawned, then grinned self-deprecatingly. "I can't function well without a caramel macchiato in the morning!" he admitted, holding up his cup, and settled down at the table with Fenton and Chief Pauahi. He began looking over the map, frowning thoughtfully. "Still pushing that idea that Frank might be in the national park, then?"

Joe bit his tongue, valiantly resisting the urge to snap the man's head off. Chewing out Lt. McCullough wouldn't do any good, after all. They needed him on their side, and if Joe came off as a whiny brat it wouldn't help matters. But why couldn't Dylan just _believe_ him?! He couldn't quite restrain his rebellious glance, although he made it as brief as possible. McCullough looked rested...evidently _he'd_ slept – it just didn't seem fair. _Oh come on, Hardy, you slept. Quit your complaining!_

Dylan leaned back and took a gulp of his macchiato. "Five-O's sending out five teams – ten more people – to help with the search. Both at Volcanoes Park and anywhere else we consider a possibility. I'd like to keep at least one team with me when I search that warehouse you mentioned, Joe." He gave Joe a stern look, as the boy sighed, and added, "And I AM going to search the warehouse. It won't hurt anything – there are lots of people searching at the Park. And we don't want to leave any possibilities unchecked. It's entirely possible we'll find something at the warehouse, something concrete – which would be a lot more productive than all of us running around trying to search a monstrosity like Volcanoes National Park!"

Joe nodded reluctant agreement. He had to admit Dylan was making some valid points. He settled back in his chair, and let his eyes drift half-closed for a moment, fighting an almost-irresistible urge to yawn. "What are we going to do next, then? Do first, I mean. The warehouse or the park?"

Before any of the police officers could reply, Fenton stated his opinion firmly: "We need to get a definite plan of action laid down and start _doing_ it!" Although he didn't say the actual words, the implication 'and quit wasting time' wasn't lost on the others.

"Megan and I have been talking," Vanessa leaned forward to enter the conversation. "We think that we'll go down to the beach this morning and try to find some of the kids we were at the luau with the other night." She glanced at Joe from the corner of her eye, a guarded look which told him she was being very careful with her words. "Maybe they'd have some ideas where we might look for Frank." Desperation tinged her words. "Maybe one of them has seen him...maybe he's not kidnapped..."

Joe knew she was thinking of Quint and the others who had taken them to the secret party on the beach, and that she didn't dare speak of that, not in front of the police. They'd sworn to keep Quint's name a secret – but she was going to try to find some of the others who had been at that beach party. _Not_ necessarily the ones who had been at the luau.

"Well, you could try," he said dubiously. "Kinda grasping at straws, though." He continued to look uncomfortable. "I don't much like the idea of you two going off alone, though...what if something happened?"

The disparaging noise Megan made was decidedly unladylike. "Joe, we don't really care if 'something happens!' Everyone needs to do their part in trying to find Frank, and this is something we can do – since I already know that you aren't going to let us go search the volcano – ARE you? No, I didn't think so!" as Joe shook his head vehemently. "And we're not helpless, or stupid, either – we'll be careful. But we're going."

"Okay, Red, okay. You made your point." Joe glanced at the other men, receiving some commiserating smiles in return.

Fenton nodded agreement. "It's a valid idea," he conceded, "but Joe's right about being careful, girls. I want you two to check in with someone every half hour or so, got it? That way you won't be far from help if you need it." He eyed both girls soberly. "Promise me?"

"Promise," Vanessa murmured, and Megan nodded.

Chief Pauahi pulled a card from his pocket and scribbled something on the back, then handed it to Vanessa. "Here – that's a number for one of my younger officers – name's Tambo. You check in with him – I'll tell him to expect your calls. Oh – and don't bother going to the beach until this afternoon. You won't catch any locals there in the morning; those kids are night owls. You might as well take a nap too; for certain they will be."

"In the meantime," Dylan put in briskly, "the rest of us should head over to that warehouse!"

"I have a few more calls to make," Captain Masukoko muttered with considerable irritation. "I don't think anyone in Kona is up yet! Supposedly I have a team checking out the cult activity, but I can't raise anyone!"

Another knock on the door surprised them; Fenton got up to answer it, a wary expression on his face. He put one hand on his gun as he approached the door; the gesture clearly demonstrated just how edgy he was. He peered through the peephole, then opened the door. To the surprise of everyone in the room, Detective Meka Ekela stood on the threshold.

"Detective Ekela! I thought you'd left town," Fenton said, and stepped back to admit the big police officer. "Please, come in."

"I took a shuttle flight back to Hana," Ekela said, "talked to my captain, and came back to see if there was any help I could offer. It's not like there's a major crime spree going on over on Maui, after all," he added with a wry grin, "so I feel pretty safe coming here to help look for the missing boy!" He gave Megan and Vanessa a charming smile, then sobered. "I'm sorry about what's happened. It casts a very bad light on Hawaii. And I'll do anything I can to help find Frank before anything happens to him."

"Well, we certainly aren't going to turn down any offers of help!" Chief Pauahi said. He briefly listed the different searches planned and underway, for his large colleague, but when he got to the part about a cult possibly being responsible for Frank's disappearance, Ekela's eyes narrowed, and he scowled in disdain.

"That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard!" he boomed. "CULT kidnapping, in this day and age? I haven't heard of anything like that in – well, in decades! And I'm a full-blooded Hawaiian, going back generations!"

Dylan McCullough broke into a broad grin at this show of support for his opinion, then manfully tried to subdue it. "That's what I said," he offered, "but we have to check it out, all the same. Joe's information can't be ignored just because we think it's unlikely!"

Joe gave a nod of acknowledgement to the lieutenant, but glared surreptitiously at Ekela. _Great, just great – someone else to remind me of Chief Collig back in Bayport! What_ _is_ _it with these guys? Can't they open their minds to something just a little far-fetched – off the wall? Don't they ever think outside the box?_ Then again...they probably hadn't had to deal with a ghost last month, like he and Frank had... _Wonder how Emily's doing now...?_ With considerable determination, Joe wrenched his wandering mind back to the present and the ongoing conversation in the hotel suite.

"...would make sense if Frank is being held somewhere on the docks," Detective Ekela was saying. "Or even somewhere else on the island – depending on who took him and why."

"It doesn't matter why Frank was taken," Joe reminded them curtly, reining in his temper, "it only matters that we find him. And that means searching everywhere – including Volcanoes National Park!" _Which is where he_ _is_ _, you bat-blind people!_

"All right, let's get started." Chief Pauahi got to his feet and clapped his hands together decisively. "Come on!"

###

As they drove in several different cars towards the warehouse district, Joe eased himself sideways in the front passenger seat of the police car Dylan McCullough was driving, and then turned to survey his father, in the back seat. He noted that Fenton looked both worried and annoyed.

"Dad? What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"I just feel like this is a bad idea," Fenton admitted. "I feel like we're getting further away from finding Frank, not closer! But I suppose it won't hurt to look over the warehouse," he conceded, "as long as there are other teams already searching the park!"

Detective Ekela spoke up from his seat beside Fenton: "I find it very commendable that you were able to talk to someone about Frank's disappearance, young Joe – even if it does seem to be a wild goose chase! I hope your informant wasn't just playing games with you – what sort of person would do that, after all?"

"I don't think it's a wild goose chase!" Joe gritted, and twisted further about in his seat to address the big Hawaiian. "The person I talked to had no reason to make something like this up – and I don't think he was the sort of person to pull a prank like that. In fact, he was dead scared of someone finding out – and he went to great pains to ensure his own safety!" Incensed, he turned around and stared out the front windshield, pointedly ignoring the police detective in the back seat.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, young Joe..." Ekela attempted to apologize, but the younger Hardy didn't bother to respond. "Joe, I apologize for casting doubts about your information ," Ekela tried again. "Let's hope that in a few days we can all sit around laughing about this, after Frank is found safe and sound."

McCullough pulled the cruiser into a parking space near the warehouse Joe indicated, and the four of them got out. Joe made a point of walking beside his father, still ignoring both Dylan and Detective Ekela. _I know Quint was right about the volcano!_ he seethed inwardly, _I know it! And all their scoffing isn't going to make me change my mind!_

Two more police cruisers with uniformed teams had parked next to Dylan's car, and the officers now joined them, all the police drawing their service weapons as they approached the warehouse. One of them pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Dylan – the search warrant.

The door was padlocked shut. McCullough looked at the lock, looked at his pistol, and then looked at the detective from Hana. "Detective Ekela, maybe you could do something about this?" he invited.

Grinning, Ekela backed up a few steps, prepared himself, and then broke the door open with a couple of massive kicks. They spilled through the doorway – and pulled up short in a jumbled mass of confusion. The place was empty – stripped clean. There was nothing – and no one – inside.

Dylan spat out a string of curses and kicked furiously at the floor with one booted foot. "Too late!" he exclaimed. "We took too long! We should have come here last night! DAMN it, I was so sure..." He snapped his fingers at the nearest uniformed officer. "Silva, you and Kâne search this place from top to bottom – and make sure you don't overlook anything!" he ordered angrily. He whirled around and stormed outside.

Joe, watching through the broken door, saw the lieutenant pause on the sidewalk and pull in several deep breaths, obviously trying to regain some semblance of control. He followed McCullough outside, waited a moment for him to calm down, and then asked quietly "What now?"

"We keep on," Dylan replied grimly. "We have people searching the park, we just need to find other clues to narrow the search." He looked around, gathering in his personnel with his eyes as the rest of their group joined him and Joe on the sidewalk. "Bishop, you and Kaleo canvass the area – find me some witnesses. I want to know when this place was emptied, and anything about the truck – or trucks – that were used to do it!"

The officers quickly departed, leaving McCullough, Fenton, Ekela and Joe standing in front of the warehouse. Dylan stared out at the nearby ocean for a moment, studying the early-morning sparkle of the waves with a grave face.

"I just had a disturbing thought," he said. "What if Frank's been taken off somewhere in a boat? Maybe a private boat? Somewhere off-island"


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai, Candylou and Max2013, for leaving feedback. It is so much appreciated!

 **A Fiery December**

By

EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 22

Joe stared at the handsome police lieutenant, his blue eyes filled with shock and denial. "No way!" he declared. "They didn't take Frank anywhere in a boat! He was taken to Kilauea! Why won't you believe me? You're just wasting time – if you don't stop wasting time, they're going to kill him! They want to kill him, don't you GET IT? We have to stop them!"

"Joe..." Fenton put a hand on his son's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

Surprisingly, Dylan didn't appear to be angry with the Hardy boy. "I know that's what you believe, Joe," he said quietly, "but I'm trying to think of any possibilities. Any. Including ones we hate."

"Does that include sacrifices to volcanoes?" Joe asked snidely, then subsided as Fenton squeezed his shoulder warningly.

" _Touché_ ," Dylan murmured, and nodded.

"Fine, if we have to consider the possibility that Frank was taken away in a boat, then we also have to consider the possibility that he was taken to Kilauea to be sacrificed!" Joe insisted hotly.

"Okay, okay, both are possible," McCullough sighed. He looked up as another car stopped nearby, and Chief Pauahi and Captain Masukoko emerged. Apparently Masukoko had finished with his phone calls. "No luck; place has been cleared out," he informed the two as they approached.

"Well damn," Pauahi muttered. "So now...?"

"I just had a thought – what about the chances of Frank being taken off in a boat?" Dylan advanced his theory. "I'm not meaning to abandon the Park search, but how about alerting the Coast Guard to check private craft?"

"Dylan, that could take forever," Pauahi pointed out, "and it's already been nearly a day since the kidnapping. A private boat could be anywhere by this time! I would say, though," he conceded, "that an APB should be issued to all the islands – and to the mainland, for that matter. Just in case."

"Okay, I'll do that," McCullough offered, and moved away from the group, pulling a cell phone from his jeans pocket.

"I'll call Hilo and talk with my Inter-coastal Police Captain," Pauahi said, "and have him start a search on that end. For now we'll go with a voluntary search, but if anyone seems to be reluctant to allow it, we'll call in for warrants as needed."

"I'll call over to Maui," Ekela announced, and stepped away to do so.

"I'll try Kona again," Captain Masukoko said, in a long-suffering voice. "Maybe someone's finally gotten to work!" They were all getting the impression that when Aaron Masukoko returned to Kona there were going to be some very hot departmental meetings taking place!

Joe and Fenton were momentarily left alone. Joe looked at his father forlornly – and saw that Fenton still looked very, very angry. "Dad?"

"It's a waste of time, searching boats," Fenton growled. "My gut instinct tells me that you're right; that your informant was right. We should all be at the Park, looking, not wasting our time and resources here. I can feel time slipping away, Joe – and the more time we waste checking out alternate theories, the less time we have to actually rescue Frank! I trust what you found out!"

"Maybe you and I ought to head out for the Park and start searching on our own," Joe suggested hopefully. "I don't think we should just sit around here waiting for everyone else to do what they think they should do. And," he added candidly, "I'm probably not the best person to be around all these cops right now! I'm tired and cranky and I want to hit something!"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Fenton laughed. "Me too, son," he agreed. "Me too!"

Kimo Pauahi approached them, evidently having overheard the exchange. "You won't have to go alone," he stated quietly. "I feel – very strongly – that in light of what you were told, Joe, it's the most likely place to look." He sighed deeply. "But I also have some bad – well, irritating – news: since it's a kidnapping, I've had to notify the FBI – and my experience with the Feds is that they'll run roughshod over everyone else in their fervor to take over the case!"

Fenton shrugged. "I've dealt with them before. And I've no problem with dealing with them again," he said calmly.

Joe smirked. He knew his father's opinion of federal agents. He was rather looking forward to the showdown.

Chief Pauahi pulled out his folded map of Volcanoes National Park once again, and spread it on the hood of the nearest car.

"Chief, where do you think – in your heart – that someone would take a potential sacrifice to Pelè?" Fenton asked softly.

"The caldera would be the likeliest place," Pauahi replied promptly, and indicated it on the map with his forefinger. "But I'll admit, it's hard to get to, and brutally hot up there! There are flows that are easier to access, and would probably serve the purpose equally well. It really depends on what kind of statement the cult is trying to make. The gasses up there will kill anyone as effectively as the lava itself – lack of oxygen, and it's surprisingly fast. So whoever takes Frank there would logically be wearing protective gear and have oxygen along. And there's another problem: one can only go so far by vehicle, even an ATV. The rubber on the tires will melt – or the gasoline could combust!"

Joe shuddered. "I hope no one would be that stupid!"

"Depends on how savvy the cult leader is," Pauahi replied.

"Would there be some sort of – ceremony?" Fenton ventured. "If there is, wouldn't that almost have to mean that the cult leader would be there?"

"I don't know," the police chief sighed. "I really don't know anything about such things, other than hearsay and legends." He looked up sharply as another car pulled up nearby. "How the hell did they get here so fast?" he muttered, as two men in dark suits emerged from the vehicle. The two newcomers approached, looking out of place here on the docks in their pressed suits and ties.

"Chief Pauahi? I'm Agent Westman. This is Agent Totmyer," the taller of the two men announced. Briefly, he snapped open a wallet to display a badge, but before he could put it away, Pauahi had held out his hand for it.

"I'd like to check yours, too," he said to Totmyer, who grimaced but pulled out his own ID. Pauahi inspected the two badges very carefully, and then excused himself to make a phone call, quite evidently taking no chances with these two men not being who they were purported to be.

The two Hardys merely stood and waited, not attempting to engage the agents in conversation, as they hadn't been introduced. Perforce, Agents Westman and Totmyer waited as well. When Pauahi returned a few minutes later, he returned the badges, apologizing for the necessity of double-checking. "How did you get here so quickly?" he asked, then.

"If you can believe it, we were both here on the Big Island on vacation," Westman admitted. "When the emergency call from Honolulu came in, we were able to drop everything and come here right away."

"If you'd like to sit down, I'll fill you in on the case," Pauahi invited politely, indicating his car, and the two FBI men followed him to the vehicle. Fenton and Joe continued to pore over the map.

"Dad," Joe said, after a few moments, "would it be possible, you think, to get a helicopter or small plane to fly us over the volcano? We could take binoculars, and might spot people where they shouldn't be...at the very least we'd get good visuals of the whole place in a hurry."

"Joe, that's a very good idea!" Fenton approved. He waved his hand, attracting Chief Pauahi's attention; the big man got out of his car and came over to the Hardys. The two FBI agents wandered over to the warehouse and went inside, apparently to check the place over for themselves.

When Fenton mentioned Joe's idea, Kimo Pauahi's eyes lit up. "Joe, that's brilliant! A helicopter can go low, and we can use powerful scopes as well. I'll arrange for it right away. We may even be able to snag two, if we're lucky!" He clapped Joe on the shoulder in pleased approval, and Joe smiled widely, delighted with the reception his notion was receiving.

Agent Westman exited the warehouse and came up to them just as Pauahi was about to leave to requisition the choppers. "Since we're here now, we'll handle the case from here on out," Westman said brusquely. "We'd appreciate it if the rest of you backed off so we can do our jobs."

The big Hawaiian police chief eyed him with contempt. "Every pair of eyes and hands is needed for something like this. I have absolutely no intention of pulling my men off this case. I've never abandoned a case before and I'm not starting now. Federal involvement or no federal involvement."

Westman's eyes narrowed unpleasantly. Joe privately thought the man looked uncannily like a ferret. He disliked ferrets. "I said, we'll handle it now," Westman repeated. "Back off, Pauahi!"

Fenton stepped forward, clearing his throat. "I'm Fenton Hardy," he said. "That happens to be my son who has been kidnapped – and I'm not leaving his fate in the hands of anyone except myself, or someone I trust." He tilted his head towards Chief Pauahi. "Like the Chief, I'm not in the habit of backing down, and I'm not making this an exception."

"Hardy, I can charge you with obstructing justice—"

"Go ahead and try it," Fenton snapped. "See how long it holds up. You're not stopping me from looking for my son!" He glared at the federal agent, who took an involuntary step back from the enraged detective.

Joe watched the scene with awe, mouth open and eyes sparkling. He couldn't remember ever seeing his father quite so forceful. _Yeah, Dad! You tell him!_ Over Westman's shoulder, he caught sight of Pauahi and Masukoko exchanging glances, and saw irascible Captain Masukoko actually grinning with delight over the FBI agent's discomfiture.

Before tempers could escalate further, Lt. Dylan McCullough appeared, striding up to the tense little group with his easy air of authority intact. He raked Westman with a chilly stare, evidently taking in the situation at a glance. "Westman," he said, calmly but firmly, "I just got off the telephone with Honolulu. I was assured by both my boss and your boss—" he paused for emphasis, "that we are all going to be working together on this case. Nobody knows this island like the local authorities – and that means Chief Pauahi, not the FBI."

Westman glowered, but Dylan waited, and after a few seconds he uttered a grudging "Fine."

Chief Pauahi snapped open his cell phone again, and started the process of requisitioning a helicopter. While waiting to talk to the appropriate people, he rapidly filled McCullough in on Joe's plan.

"Sounds good," Dylan approved, and tendered Joe a quick smile. "The Coast Guard's on alert, and in on the hunt too."

Watching the activity, Joe felt himself relax just a tiny bit. _Maybe...just maybe...we're a little closer to finding Frank!_

#####

Every part of Frank's body ached, when he woke up once more. He was lying spread-eagled again, and his ankles and wrists were in restraints. He wriggled just a bit, testing the bonds. Padded cuffs, from what he could tell. His back ached, his neck ached, his arms and legs hurt, and he could only move a few inches in any direction. And it was dark. Very, very dark, even though there was no longer anything covering his eyes.

Listening intently, he could hear no sounds around him. No signs of life at all, not even birds or insects. No traffic noises. No ocean sounds. Nothing to give him the slightest clue as to his location. Where the hell _was_ he?

He patted the surface on which he lay, gingerly. It was hard, but with a textured, fibrous surface – metal covered by carpet, was Frank's best guess. He tugged at the restraints again, to no avail. You couldn't untie handcuffs, after all.

 _This sucks. Kidnapped while on vacation in Hawaii! How do I rate, anyway?_ He tried to remember what the strange woman had said to him, when he'd been awake before. She'd spoken English for the most part, but she'd talked of things that made no sense to him – and she'd used words he didn't recognize. Hawaiian, he realized now. What was this, anyway? _Am I going to be the kalua pig at a luau, or something?_ He shivered, not liking that notion in the least. _What else am I missing, here?_

He felt around with his feet as best he could, hoping to find something that might aid his escape efforts, although how he'd be able to USE anything defied imagination, restrained as he was. Even if he had the handcuff key it would do him no good; there was no way he could use it anyway!

The darkness abruptly lifted, as a door squeaked open. Light flooded the interior, and Frank realized his place of captivity was the back of a large van, with blacked-out windows. He squinted in the sudden brightness, and saw a girl's form silhouetted against the light. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that she was holding a small basket.

"I have brought fruit," she said in soft tones. "It is time for you to eat." It wasn't the same woman as before, but this girl had a similarly soft, soothing quality to her voice.

Frank shook his head. "Not hungry," he lied. "What's going on, anyway? Why are you holding me here? Who are you?"

"Shhh," the girl said. She crawled into the van and sat down beside him, but with her back to the sunlight, so that he couldn't quite make out her features clearly. "You are most honored, _Po maika'I Mohai._ You shall be lifted up."

She held a bite of pineapple to Frank's lips, and despite his declaration of not being hungry, he sucked it in avidly.

"Very soon, you will go through _ho'oma'ema'ana_ ," she told him, popping more bites of fruit into his mouth, "and then tomorrow, you shall go through _hi'uwai._ And after that – then you shall meet with the Lady Pelè."

Frank frowned at that, even as he ate the fruit. _Meet Pelè? How...?_

"How do I meet Pelè?" he asked. "She's—"

"Shhh," his captor said. "Our Lady Goddess Pelè awaits you with open arms, _Po Maika'i_. You will meet her soon."

She said nothing more as she fed Frank the rest of the fruit in her basket. After allowing him some water from a bottle, she left, as quietly as she had come.

 _Meet Pelè._ Frank thought hard. _What did she mean? How could I...meet...Pelè?_

 _Oh...God..._


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai, Candylou and Max2013, for leaving feedback. It is so much appreciated!

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 23

Megan Wright tossed and turned. Although she and Vanessa had taken Chief Pauahi's advice and gone back to bed after the early-morning meeting had ended, she had been unable to fall back to sleep. Vanessa had dropped off in short order, but Megan found it impossible to let go of the worry – impossible to relax enough to sleep at all. Despite willing herself to make her mind a blank, every time she closed her eyes the same scene superimposed itself on her eyelids: _Rivulets of lava running down Kilauea's slopes – and Frank Hardy lying bound and helpless in their path!_ The shock of it jerked her eyes wide open again, again and again. Even though she _knew_ it was pure imagination – after all, she hadn't been to Kilauea, and didn't really know what it looked like, other than pictures and videos she'd looked up on the Internet – it still had the power to rob her of any relaxation or sleep.

After an hour and a half of lying there doing nothing but frightening herself, Megan quietly got out of bed and went into the bathroom, where she proceeded to take a long, hot shower. She blow-dried her red-gold hair, finger-combing the waves into some attempt at order as she worked the dryer over her hair. Once it was done to her satisfaction, she applied makeup – trying to conceal the worst of the fatigue-smudges beneath her eyes – and dressed once again in the clothes she'd had on earlier. She chose tennis shoes over sandals as footwear – they were going to be on the beach, and she recalled quite well how difficult it was walking on the rough surface. It had been worse at Lake Tahoe – pebbles, rather than coral – but either way, shoes were the better choice!

Returning to the bedroom, Megan noted that Vanessa was still fast asleep. She'd turned over on her other side, facing away from the windows. Megan envied her friend's ability to sleep anywhere, anytime. But then, it wasn't _Vanessa's_ boyfriend who was gone, after all...why shouldn't she sleep? _No, that's not fair, Megan, don't be like that. Van's still getting over that nasty bug she picked up in Bayport, and she needs all the rest and sleep she can get – and that includes not stressing over Frank's disappearance!_ With a soft little sigh, Megan picked up a book from the bedside table and sat down in a chair near the windows. She cautiously pulled back a corner of the drapes, to let in enough daylight to read by. She noted that it had clouded over and was raining. How dismally appropriate!

Nearly an hour later, Vanessa turned over again and opened her eyes. She focused on Megan, who had looked up and smiled a little as the blonde girl stirred. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Megan replaced her bookmark and set the book on the table. She had thought the book riveting when she'd started reading it – on the plane – but it certainly hadn't held her interest in the past hour. She'd found herself reading the same page over, time and time again, and still she couldn't have said what was on that particular page. In fact, she had no idea what was in the whole book! _What a waste of time!_

"You okay?" Vanessa was surprisingly alert, for having just awakened. She sat up and stretched, eyeing Megan curiously. "Did you get a nap?"

"No," Megan admitted, shaking her head. "I couldn't sleep."

"Aw, honey..." Vanessa got out of bed and crossed the room to put her arms about the smaller girl. "Try not to worry, huh?"

Megan leaned against her for a few moments, appreciating the gesture. "Thanks, Van. I am trying – really, I am. But it's hard. I can't seem to let it go. I can see the volcano – I can see Frank, being engulfed by red-hot lava..." She shuddered in Vanessa's embrace. "It makes me sick to my stomach."

Vanessa sighed and sat down on the end of Megan's bed. "I feel like I brought it on us, being so fascinated with the place—"

"NO! Don't say that; we all wanted to see it!" Megan protested.

"It just seemed like something so interesting...something rich in Hawaii's history. And we're right here..." Vanessa trailed off disconsolately.

"It wasn't your fault," Megan murmured, and let the subject drop.

Yawning, Vanessa checked her watch. "Wow, it's almost noon. Guess I'd better take a shower." She gathered up some clothing and disappeared into the bathroom; a few moments later Megan heard the water running. In a surprisingly short time, Vanessa reappeared, hair pulled back into its ponytail again, clad in shorts and the tee-shirt she'd had on earlier.

"We should go get some lunch, and then head out – see if we can find that beach that Quint took us to the other night," she suggested.

Megan nodded and stood up. "Do you think you can find it?

"Well, we might be able to find it on our own, but if we can't, we'll come back to the beach here and see if we see any of the kids. It's too bad Quint's taken off; he'd probably take us there. Maybe."

"If Quint hadn't taken off," Megan pointed out bitterly, "he could probably take us directly to Frank!" 

They took the elevator down to the lobby, and went to the hotel's coffee shop for lunch. Megan ordered a sandwich and a green salad, and a small fruit plate – which she merely picked at, once it arrived.

"Hey, girlfriend—" Vanessa tapped the table imperiously to get her attention. "You have got to eat. You didn't sleep, and now you aren't eating. Just where did you think you were going to get the energy to look for Frank, hmmm?"

Megan raised guilty blue-green eyes. "I know, I know...I'm sorry," she sighed. Resolutely, she took a bite of her sandwich, and chewed. "See?" she said, with her mouth full, "I'm eating, I'm eating. See?"

"That's better." Vanessa returned her attention to her own large fruit tray and her fish sandwich. "I love this," she mumbled, indicating the fruit plate. "Nothing beats fresh fruit from Hawaii...nothing at all!"

Megan managed a half smile as she leaned back and kept nibbling at her own lunch. She knew Vanessa was right; she couldn't just stop eating and sleeping. It certainly wouldn't do Frank any good – he'd be mad as all get-out if he knew.

At last they both finished, and asked the desk clerk to call a taxi for them. Remembering Chief Pauahi's orders, Vanessa called Officer Tambo and reported that they were heading out to do their 'interviewing,' but, she emphasized, they didn't have a cell phone, so they weren't going to be able to call him every thirty minutes. Tambo wasn't happy about it, but there wasn't much he could do. Vanessa did promise that they'd check in at the first opportunity – she knew there were pay phones near some of the beaches; she'd seen them.

When the driver picked them up, Megan described the place they were looking for, as best she could. She hadn't been watching closely on their wild journey in the old Hummer, but she remembered fairly well.

The driver, after thinking a few moments, nodded. "I think I know where you mean. It's early in the day for anyone to be there – but this is winter break, after all – so the local kids might have showed up by now. Sure," he finished with a wide smile, "I'll take you there!"

It didn't take long; soon they saw the almost-hidden lane, and Megan leaned to tap the driver's shoulder. "You can let us out here," she told him. "We can walk it from here."

"Okay," he agreed, pulling to the side of the road. "I'd rather not risk scratching my paint job anyway! Good luck finding your friends!" he added, as they paid him. "Oh – how you gettin' back? You call me for a ride?"

"We don't have a cell phone," Vanessa confessed. "We're hoping that we can hitch a ride back with someone."

"Well, good luck, then!" Without further conversation, he pulled away, leaving the two Bayport girls staring rather blankly after him.

"Well!" Megan said, "Maybe it would have been smarter to rent a car or something!"

"Can't," Vanessa said glumly. "We're too young; they wouldn't rent to us. You know that."

"Oh...right."

They set out down the lane toward the beach, hoping against hope that their journey hadn't been wasted.

"It's so pretty," Megan noted, smiling a little as they came in view of the smoothly rolling waves. "It was pretty at night; it's even lovelier now!"

"Hey, it's the _malihinis_ that came with Quint!" a voice called. " _Aloha_ , _wahines_!"

To their relief, it was one of the boys from the other night, and he was quickly joined by a long-haired Hawaiian girl they recognized as well.

"Where your guys at?" she teased. "Looking around for better pursuits?" She stepped a little closer to the boy, and took his arm in a possessive grip.

"No, no – not at all," Vanessa said hastily. "We came out here because we need to talk to you...there's been some trouble..."

Both the Hawaiians sobered. "Trouble?" the boy repeated warily.

"Frank – Megan's boyfriend, the dark-haired guy – has been kidnapped," Vanessa blurted, without preamble. "No one's been able to find him. We have reason to believe – we were told by someone – that he's been taken by a cult... Do you know anything about cults...?"

The Hawaiian teens exchanged looks and both began to laugh.

"Good joke, _nani_ _wahine_ ," the boy chuckled. "You two _haole_ come to our beach and try to pull a fast one on us islanders, heh?"

"NO!" Megan was nearly stamping with fury. She glared at the amused teen. "It's not a joke – and I didn't come here to get laughed at! I mean business! And I mean to find Frank – one way or another – alive!"

"Okay, okay...simmer down." The boy eyed her consideringly. "Let's sit down and talk this over, heh?"

They did so, dropping to seats on the soft sand.

"Okay, I'm Komaka. This is Melanie. You're...?"

"Vanessa."

"Megan."

Komaka exchanged somber glances with Melanie. "I don't know about any cult stuff, no BS," he said. "I follow the old ways some – most of us do, in this group – but we're not a cult. I don't get down on bended knee to worship Pelè, or anything, if that's what you're thinkin'!" 

"No, not exactly." Megan shook her head and tried to explain. "Someone has threatened – to...to – oh, I realize this sounds stupid, but...to throw him into Kilauea, to sacrifice him to Pelè! It's the fulfillment of some prophecy or other – he fits all the qualifications, so..."

Komaka looked frowningly at Melanie. "Doesn't jangle my chimes, how 'bout you?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "No – but I don't hang out with the wacko crowd at school, you know that. You—" she was addressing Vanessa and Megan now, 'would be better off talking to Quint or Eli than anyone else. Eli always has weird things going on, spouting off the least little Pelè-related factoid...whether you asked for it, or not!"

"Where could we find Eli?" Vanessa asked. "We...um...don't know where Quint is, right now." She had a feeling that mentioning that Quint was currently fleeing for his life might not go down too well with their acquaintances.

"There." Melanie pointed down the beach. They saw another young man seated on the sand, a sketchpad in his lap. He was alternately gazing out over the water and down at the drawing he was making. "But look out – Eli's weird, ya know?"

"Thank you – thank you very, very much. _Mahalo_." Megan got to her feet, as did Vanessa, and they walked towards Eli. They stopped a short distance away and watched him draw for a little while. Vanessa, who had a definite artistic streak, noted that he had a deft, sure hand with his pencil. You could see the waves in his picture coming to life – you could almost see them placidly rolling in.

Megan cleared her throat gently and moved a few steps closer. "Eli – could we interrupt you a minute? We'd like to talk to you."

Eli didn't bother looking at them, just kept sketching, but he nodded. "Sure. Pull up a section of the beach," he invited with a smile. He spoke with the soft accent that many of the Islanders did, but his words were perfectly clear and understandable.

Vanessa laughed and sank down cross-legged; Megan knelt and then curled her legs under her. "That's Vanessa," she introduced herself, "and I'm Megan. In case you don't remember us from the other night."

" _Waneka_ and _Mekhana_ ," he translated, with another smile. "I remember you. What can I do for you, _nani_ _wahines_?"

Megan again explained what had happened – Frank's disappearance, their belief that he had been taken by some sort of native cult to serve as a sacrifice to the volcano. Even as she repeated the words, she knew how crazy they must seem, and her heart sank. She saw Vanessa was watching Eli closely, and knew her friend was on the lookout for any reaction that might indicate he knew something of the plot.

"He was taken from the hotel – and we have good reason to believe it was by a cult which wants to bring back the old ways to the Islands." She paused, suddenly thinking of something which they had almost forgotten. "Right after he was taken, a young woman was killed at the hotel – a maid, who was the only one to see him being kidnapped," she said. "We know these people mean business, if they would kill an eyewitness!"

Eli shrugged, still gazing out over the ocean. "I've heard of groups like that," he admitted, "but I'm not associated with them."

 _Of_ _course_ _you aren't!_ Vanessa thought with impotent fury. _Everyone's_ _heard_ _of them, but no one admits to having anything to DO with them!_ She wanted to scream in frustration.

"I love and revere Pelè," Eli was continuing, "and I love Kilauea, but I don't get all fanatical about it! I know what Melanie told you," he added, with a sideways grin. "And I'm not nuts. Anyway, yes, I've heard about cults like that – and I was approached once, recruited. I decided I didn't want to join them. For one thing, that prophecy they spouted; that's not accurate. It's not authentic. The wording's too modern, even in Hawaiian, let alone the translation. I'm not interested in belonging to a cult that uses fiction to found its beliefs!"

"Do you have any idea where we might find these people?" Megan asked, very carefully. "We really don't have much time, and it's important to find Frank before something...happens."

"Not really," Eli admitted. He set down his pencil and turned to look at them at last. "Like I said, I went to one gathering. It was in Volcanoes National Park, that much I know. But I was taken there blindfolded, so I couldn't ever reveal their meeting place."

"Do you remember how long you drove?" Vanessa demanded. "Where did you start? Were you near anything you recognized, when you were at the meeting place?"

"No, not really. It was dark, very late at night, and there were clouds obscuring the moon and stars. And everyone there was hooded, so I couldn't recognize anyone anyway. Even the ceremonies were very...secretive. That surprised me. It seemed like they had something to hide. That made me wonder – why were they recruiting me, if they didn't want to tell me what was going on? It was just too freaky to deal with, ya know? Anyway, I just knew it was in the Park...but not where in the park. It's a big place!"

"Thank you, Eli. _Mahalo_." Megan managed a smile as she got to her feet. It was a pale version of her usual dimpled sunburst smile, but Eli had no way of knowing that. "Your drawing is beautiful," she added, and he grinned in appreciation.

The two girls wandered about on the beach, chatting to a few of the other kids they recognized from their previous visit, but no one seemed to have any further information which might help in finding Frank.

As Megan walked, she kept running over the words of the prophecy in her mind. Joe hadn't been able to quote it exactly, but he'd had a pretty good idea of it, and had written it down for them. _Dark hair...dark eyes...an outlander._ Okay, all that fit, all too well. _He shall know no woman's touch... Oh, NO!_ A horrid realization swept over her. She stared up at Vanessa, tears filling her eyes. "Vanessa...it's my fault! Frank was taken because...it's because..."

"What? How could it be your fault?" the blonde girl demanded, staring at Megan as if she'd suddenly sprouted horns.

"The prophecy – the part that says 'he shall know no woman's touch.' I – I stopped him, Van!" Tears were choking her now; she could barely force the words out. "On my birthday – he wanted...I stopped him! He's going to die...he's going to die because...because we didn't...because of me. Vanessa, it's MY FAULT!"


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai, Candylou and Max2013, for leaving feedback. It is so much appreciated!

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 24

Vanessa blinked, feeling totally confused. Megan's strangled words had shocked her – how in the world could the other girl think that Frank's abduction was her fault? She must have missed something along the line..."Okay...tell me again, Megs, please. Why do you think this is your fault?"

Megan gulped, and scrubbed her fists against her eyes, trying to control her sobs. Blushing hotly, she tried to explain. "My birthday...you know? After dinner, we went back to my house, and we were on the couch, and – kissing, and – you know! And Frank – he wanted to..."

"Oh...okay..." _Well!_ _That_ _was a surprise!_ "Go on, honey."

"But I...s-said...slow down...my mom was j-just down the hall, and...so we...didn't." The tears welled afresh. "Even after he gave me...this—" she gestured frantically with her left hand, "we didn't. And, then, on New Year's Eve, we were...I think we would...but his father called on the phone, and interrupted, and—" she began to sob again in earnest. "Now he's been taken...to b-be a v-virgin sacrifice...When he could've...you know, not been! If I'd just..."

"Oh...oh, my." For a moment Vanessa couldn't think of anything to say. Fleetingly, she wondered how in the world these people, whoever they were, had known about Frank's sex life, or...lack of one. It wasn't exactly something you filled out on those tourist cards the airlines gave you, after all! She marshaled her scattered thoughts with sudden determination. "Megan, that's something that you and Frank have to decide yourselves...both of you. Not just you giving in because he wants it, or because you think you ought to. You didn't argue about it, did you?"

"N-no. He just said...I was...s-sensible!" Megan sniffed. She was no longer sobbing, but tears rolled down her cheeks. "And on New Year's...he...he felt the s-same...said the m-mood was sp-spoiled."

"Well, there you are. He wasn't mad, and although he might have been disappointed, it wasn't so vital that...well, you know. And for heaven's sake, it isn't like anyone makes a decision like that based on whether they think they'd be sacrificed! Who would have thought? Anyway, don't give up hope!" She hugged her friend tightly. "You know – you should know by now – that Frank and Joe always pull through, somehow. And they will again! Joe and Mr. Hardy will find Frank – don't worry!"

Megan nodded slightly, a tiny smile tilting the corners of her mouth upward. "Yeah...I know. They always...pull through. I try to keep telling myself that. But...it's hard, Van. It's so hard!"

The two girls resumed their walk along the beach, but with little success. No one else seemed willing to talk to them, or if they were, were of no help. None of Quint's friends were around; Komaka and Melanie were gone.

"Might as well find a phone and call Chief Pauahi's contact guy," Megan suggested at last, sounding desolate. "We're not getting anywhere with this."

Accordingly, they walked away from the water, up into one of the little roadside parks that were prevalent along the Hawaiian coastline, and found a pay phone. Vanessa made the call, and soon was talking with Officer Tambo once again. She filled him in on what little they'd found out.

"Do you think there's anything else that we can do?" she asked him, at last.

" _No, not really,"_ Tambo told her _. "You may as well go on back to your hotel. But thanks for trying. It was a good idea, even if you didn't get much result."_

"And you haven't heard anything...?"

" _No, nothing. But they're doing a helicopter fly-over of the park to check for unusual activity, or for any sightings. You girls need to be picked up?"_

"We'd appreciate that, yes," Vanessa said gratefully. Tambo said he'd call a taxi for them, and ended the call.

###

By the time the taxi arrived to pick them up, the girls were beginning to think it had gone by way of Kona. Megan fidgeted restlessly as she waited. She felt depressed and forlorn; she was sure there must be _something_ she ought to be doing that would help find Frank – if only she knew what it was, or where to go to do it!

 _Something...anything at all. I'd do anything at all to save Frank..._

A bitter voice replied in her mind: _You could have._ Sternly, she banished it: _We weren't ready._

The taxi finally pulled up, and the girls climbed into the back seat. Vanessa gave the driver the name of their hotel, then both girls slumped wearily against the seat. As the driver began to pull the vehicle out onto the road, however, Megan jerked upright in surprise. Directly in front of them, a very familiar-looking vehicle zoomed past.

"Vanessa!" She grabbed the blonde girl's arm tightly. "Look! That's Quint's car, I'm sure of it!" Hastily, she leaned forward and tapped the taxi driver's shoulder. "Listen! Don't go to the hotel! Follow that Hum-V!"

The driver turned around and stared at her. "Are you serious, lady?"

"Yes, I'm serious!" she snapped imperiously. "Now MOVE IT!"

"Yes, ma'am." Shaking his head, he twisted the steering wheel and pulled out onto the highway after the rapidly-disappearing Hummer. "Whatever you say..."

#####

Joe Hardy shifted in his hard little helicopter seat once again. Why couldn't they take OFF, already? What was taking so damn long, that they couldn't leave? Surely the chopper was fueled up, and they had permission to go, and surely they must already have a map, and what the hell were those cops _doing_ , anyway, having more coffee and doughnuts? _I could have walked to the park faster, at this rate! I could have walked there and rescued Frank and..._ He fidgeted again. _Oh hell, who am I kidding?_

"Joe. Joe, settle down." Fenton placed a firm hand on his younger son's knee, which was jiggling and bouncing as Joe jittered and squirmed impatiently in his seat. "If you don't stop it, I'm going to toss you out on the tarmac," Fenton threatened. _He's going to drive me nuts... He's come close before, but this time he's truly going to drive me nuts..._

Joe glared at him. "When are we going to go?" he demanded.

Fenton sighed. "We'll go when we go. And since it's not our call, and not our helicopter, there's nothing we can do to speed up the process. So stop whining. And sit still. Please."

Joe sighed heavily, crossed his arms on his chest, and sullenly stared out the window, but he did stop jittering. His father leaned wearily back in his seat and closed his eyes.

After another span of time which seemed like an eternity to the worried Hardys, the police officers joined them and climbed into the big 6-seat chopper. Chief Pauahi hauled himself into the front passenger seat. With Joe and Fenton already ensconced in the far rear seats, the two middle ones were left for Dylan McCullough and Captain Masukoko. Masukoko was carrying several small-sized pairs of binoculars, and he handed a pair each to Fenton and Joe, keeping one set himself, before buckling himself into his seat.

Joe nodded his thanks, and laid the binoculars in his lap, but couldn't quite restrain the impatient tapping of his fingers against the armrest. _Let's GO, already!_ The wiry little police captain turned and surveyed him narrowly, and when Joe's anxious eyes met his, Masukoko nodded slightly in encouragement. He looked intense – almost excited, as if he was pleased to be actually doing something, that they were finally getting somewhere. Joe decided that, irascible as the man might be, he was beginning to like Captain Masukoko. He managed to pull up a small smile in return.

Dylan, seated next to Masukoko and directly in front of Joe, wore a look of elaborately resigned patience. Joe could practically read his mind: _'I know we're wasting our time doing this, but I'm going along with it just to humor you...'_ He had an irrational desire to kick McCullough's seat – and he knew that was totally unfair, because really, Dylan McCullough was an all-right guy and a good cop, and in any other situation, Joe would have been delighted to be working with him. Just...not _now_.

Chief Pauahi was talking, nonstop, into his headset, which apparently was still connecting him with the outside world, rather than the helicopter's occupants. Joe had no idea what the man was saying; he was speaking in Hawaiian, with an occasional English word thrown into the mix. Whatever he was saying, however, he was saying it emphatically!

The pilot slid into his seat and began his pre-flight checks. Joe put on his headphones to listen in, trying to keep himself occupied and stifle his impatience. At last they were cleared for takeoff, and the big chopper lifted smoothly into the air, tilted slightly as it gained altitude, and swung about.

They were heading southward, following the shoreline. Despite his worry, Joe couldn't help but feel a thrill as he looked down; the beauty of the scenery was incredible. Sadly, he wished that Vanessa could see it as well. She wanted to, so badly – and Megan. _And Frank_. He clenched his hands into fists.

Conversation was nearly nonexistent among the passengers. Even Chief Pauahi had stopped talking. Dylan McCullough was looking down at a file folder on his lap, making notes on a sheet of paper.

They flew for approximately half an hour before the pilot swung out over the ocean, turned and came back in, flying directly at the gently-steaming volcano. Now the occupants of the helicopter began to chat. Joe put his borrowed binoculars to his eyes and began scanning the ground below him intently, while still listening closely to the conversation over his headphones..

"How low can we go?" That was Masukoko, leaning forward as he questioned the pilot.

"Limit's 1500 feet, unless we have permission to go lower," was the answer.

"You have permission." It was a statement, not a question.

"Well...yeah."

"How low?" Now Pauahi entered the conversation, sounding impatient.

"Well...500 feet. But absolutely no lower; it's not safe!"

"Drop to 500 feet and stay at that level unless it's too dangerous," Pauahi instructed.

The pilot's sigh came clearly over the headphones. "But..."

"Do it."

"Yessir. As you say." The chopper began to descend, and they could feel the winds buffeting the aircraft increase. Now all the police officers and the Hardys were watching out the helicopter windows.

"Look for large gatherings of people – people that don't look like tourists; you know what I mean. And any sort of place that might be suitable for a sacrifice." Pauahi instructed. "Cars parked in an unauthorized area, for instance. Larger vehicles – a gathering of vans or small trucks."

As the chief had warned, it was somewhat difficult to distinguish groups of tourists from groups of police searchers, but the binoculars made it feasible. The pilot kept up his gentle circling, occasionally flying straight for a few minutes to reduce the chances of queasiness in his passengers.

"How hot is the lava?" Joe asked, staring down at the steaming black landscape with its tiny red flickers of molten lava.

"About 2000 degrees Fahrenheit," the pilot replied. "But that's freshly erupted lava; it cools quickly once it's out in the open air."

"Cool enough to walk on?" Fenton inquired. He wondered if the searchers would be having to trek over the lava fields in their hunt for his son.

"Well...maybe after about a day. You can get within 30 feet or so of a 'live' lava flow," the pilot answered.

Staring downward, Joe noticed a wide, flat area, glowing red under the afternoon sunlight. "What's that?" he asked, pointing.

Captain Masukoko turned to look where the boy indicated. "Lava lake," he replied.

"Would that be..." Joe hesitated. "Would something like that be...Oh God, could that be a place for...sacrifice?"

"Possibly," Pauahi answered him. "It's more readily accessible than some other places—"

Masukoko interrupted with a sudden shout. "Lava tubes!" he cried. "That's where he could be hidden – in one of the lava tubes!"


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai, Candylou and Max2013, for leaving feedback. It is so much appreciated!

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 25

Frank's existence seemed to be made up of sleeping...and waking to find himself in weird, unfamiliar places, all of them uncomfortable in some way. This time was the worst, he decided.

First off, his hands were secured behind his back, apparently in handcuffs. You couldn't break cuffs like you might twine or a rope. Whoever was holding him knew his stuff.

Secondly, his legs were tied together. He supposed that with a great deal of wriggling and contortions he _might_ be able to get his feet pulled up and his hands in front of him, and maybe he could untie the bindings on his legs, and run out of...out of...but...well, maybe he'd try it later. He was so tired, and it sounded like a nearly-impossible task. He wiggled experimentally, and subsided with an inward sigh.

Third, he was gagged, so he couldn't even yell for help. Not that he expected to find any help. Help had been dependable only by its complete absence, lately. And it wasn't even the sort of gag that might be rubbed off...no, they'd used duct tape on his face. He couldn't get it off unless his hands were in front of him, and even if they were, it would hurt like hell to tear it off. _I wonder why kidnappers always like to use duct tape so much? I'd like to stick some on a few of their faces and rip it off and see how they like it! _It would be worse if his beard was grown out, but he had a vague recollection of some strange girl shaving his face – which gave him the creeps anyway! _If my beard was growing out, at least it would keep my face warmer!_ The duct tape actually helped in that regard, but given the choice, he'd take chill over tape.

Lastly, wherever he was, it was...cold. Quite cold. Not Arctic sub-zero cold, but...cold. And dark. Pitch-black, in fact. If he'd had a hand free to wave in front of his face, Frank knew he wouldn't have been able to see it. Plus, whatever he was lying on was hard. Uncomfortably hard. There was some sort of matting, but he suspected that it was placed directly on ground...or rock. It did little to protect him from the cold that seeped upwards into his body, and he was wracked by occasional spasms of shivering. He could tell he wasn't wearing much of anything – a loin cloth, maybe or that stupid grass skirt they'd put on him earlier. If he hadn't been in such a predicament, it might have been almost funny...in a horrible kind of way.

 _C'mon, Hardy, pull yourself together. Joe and Dad will be looking for you...you've got to try and help them, by helping yourself. So what if you're going to be killed by a cult and thrown into a volcano as a sacrifice to Pelè!_ He sighed. _What a way to go...dumped into a volcano as a sacrifice to a goddess. Well, nothing like originality, after all..._

He rocked back and forth, experimentally, once again considering the possibility of getting his hands in front of him.

The sound of soft footfalls in the silent darkness, followed by a dim light approaching, made him cease his efforts. _How the hell am I supposed to escape if they keep checking up on me all the time?_ He closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing. Maybe whoever it was would think he was asleep, and go away.

A hand touched his cheek – a warm hand. He instinctively responded to the warmth against his chilly face, unable to stop himself from moving the slightest bit. Deciding that he'd given the game away, he reluctantly opened his eyes to dim light and a shadowy figure hovering above him.

"Soon you will be cleansed," a feminine voice told him softly.

Frank wished desperately that he could _communicate_ with these people! He wanted to tell them that he _wasn't_ a sacrifice, _wasn't_ some goddess's lost mate, he was merely a college student on vacation, and his family would proceed to tear the island apart, looking for him _! I want to leave here! I'm not supposed to be here!_

But all that came through the gag was muffled grunts. Frustrated, he tossed his head back and forth, eluding the warm hand that stroked his cheek.

"If you are thirsty, I will allow you a drink," the woman told him, "but you must promise me that you will be quiet. I have heard that the Kahuna is nearby, fasting and praying in preparation, increasing his _mana_...his spiritual power. He would be angered if you disturbed him."

Frank had to admit that he was thirsty; he nodded slightly, and the woman worked at the corners of the duct tape to loosen it. He couldn't help wincing as the sticky tape pulled at his skin. Finally becoming exasperated with the tedium of peeling it off, the woman yanked hard, tearing the tape off in one pull.

 _That_ caused Frank to yelp outright in pain! With a huff of annoyance, the woman backhanded him across the mouth.

"I said, you must be quiet!" she hissed angrily, and slapped the tape back into place.

 _Well, it hurt!_ he wanted to yell at her, but again, was powerless to do so. _Hey! What about my drink!? Come back here!_ For his captor was rising to her feet, leaving...and taking the light with her.

Despairing, Frank sank back on the woven matting and closed his eyes.

#####

The taxi driver didn't look any too sure about Megan's demand to 'follow that Hum-Vee!' He stared at her suspiciously over his shoulder, wondering if this was some sort of game they were playing – 'Make Fun of the Stupid Hawaiian Taxi-guy,' for instance. Mainlanders! _Haoles_! Well, they were cute girls, and they were paying him, so he supposed he could go along with the scheme for awhile. He pressed down on the accelerator in an effort to keep up with the Hummer ahead. But the large vehicle kept increasing its pace, tearing up the road, and the taxi driver was hard put to keep it within sight.

"Go faster! Catch him!" the red-haired girl pleaded, leaning over the seat back to urge him on. "We've got to talk to the driver! It's important!"

He shook his head, knowing that his car didn't have the muscle to compete in a race with a Hummer, but willing to try.

"Megan, relax!" Vanessa tugged on her friend's arm, pulling her back in the seat. "He's doing his best." She was trying hard to keep the other girl calm, hoping against hope that they could catch Quint and make him reveal where Frank had been taken. _The Hardys always come through...they will this time too. They've got to! Joe will find him – I refuse to believe they won't find him!_ "It'll be okay, you'll see."

Megan shrugged her off, not responding to the soothing words. She kept her eyes glued to the speeding vehicle ahead, and saw it abruptly turn onto a dirt road, throwing up a huge plume of dust. "There! He turned there! Don't miss the turnoff—" The words choked off as the taxi driver screeched to a halt, shaking his head. "What are you DOING? Don't stop, you've got to keep going, go after him! Don't just sit there like a lump!" she shrieked desperately, and shook the man's shoulder in frustration.

"Why did you stop?" Vanessa was nearly as baffled as Megan.

"Lady, that's a dirt road! There's no way I can keep up with a Hummer on a dirt road!" the driver explained, turning a harassed face to the two girls. "This car isn't built to take on that kind of terrain! I have to keep it in working order, you know! Now...where would you like me to take you?" he finished, hoping these crazy _wahines_ would decide to go back to their hotel.

Megan sank back into her seat, her face a mask of desolation. "We were so close..." she whispered miserably.

"Hilo-Kilauea Island Resort Spa." Vanessa told him gloomily, and settled back beside Megan. "It's okay, Megs, we'll still find Frank." She squeezed the other girl's hand encouragingly.

"You think?" Tears were brimming in Megan's blue-green eyes. She watched the last of the dust plume dissipate in the tropical breeze. "Where do you suppose he was going? What was he doing? I thought Joe said he was going to disappear?"

"I don't know. Maybe he changed his mind, and decided to go back to..." She stopped, realizing that perhaps they shouldn't be talking about this with the taxi driver right there. She put a finger to her lips, and Megan nodded, understanding the pantomime.

They spent the ride back to the hotel in dismal silence.

Upon reaching their destination, all the girls really wanted to do was go to their room and crash, but courtesy – and curiosity – decreed that they should at least make the effort to check in with Laura Hardy, who had been left completely alone and on her own, at the resort. Accordingly, they tapped on the Hardy parents' suite door.

After a brief pause, the door opened, revealing a very somber-looking Laura. "Hello, girls – come in." She pulled the door open wider.

"We just thought we'd check – see if you had heard anything?" Vanessa hesitated in the corridor. "We didn't mean to intrude..."

"You're not intruding," Laura said bleakly. "I welcome the company. And no, I haven't heard anything. Did you have any luck with your search?"

"Not really," Megan confessed. She wasn't about to go into the whole story of the futile chase after Quint's Hum-Vee; in retrospect it seemed to be a silly and useless endeavor.

Laura sighed. "Well, it was a good thought, at least," she comforted them. "What are you going to do now?"

"Nap?" Vanessa suggested hopefully, and Laura smiled.

"A nap is always nice," she concurred, "and you two would probably be better for it. I'll call you if I hear anything, how's that?"

Megan hugged her tightly. "You take a nap too," she said. "It will make the time go faster until...until Mr. Hardy calls and tells you they've found Frank!"

Laura watched them depart, smiling bravely, but with a heavy heart. _Would_ Frank be found...in time?

#####

The man drove the old Hummer along the dirt road, smiling to himself. He had seen the taxi following him, and wondered why – and had taken steps to halt any such foolish pursuits. No matter who or why, it was necessary to put a stop to it. Besides, this road was seldom used. He could...dispose of the trash...on it, and it was unlikely that said trash would be found for a long time.

He glanced into the rear-view mirror of his borrowed vehicle and smirked. The prize in the back seat was a traitor...a traitor who had apparently lost the visions of the future _he himself_ had set for the islands – at the behest of Lady Goddess Pelè. Traitors who turned their backs on Lady Pelè deserved the harshest of punishments – but this one was not worthy of sacrifice; he was...tainted. Tainted by his traitorous actions, no matter what he had been before. High acolyte – HAH! No, a slow, tormented death was better for him.

The _Kahuna_ – for it was he – drove carefully along the back-country road. There wasn't much traffic back here – only the occasional native using the road for a cut-through. He needed a nice, quiet, out-of-the-way spot where he could...unload the cargo.

 _Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy, trying to waylay the Promised to Pelè!_ And he'd almost succeeded, he could have spoiled things, upset the whole schedule. Lucky thing he'd just happened to run into him!

Well, the crisis had been averted, and now the time was drawing near for the sacrifice. _This very evening, Pelè will meet her new betrothed. She will take him into her warm, welcoming embrace, and then set the purging fire spreading over the island...wiping out all the malihinis who infest the land._ _And I will become the leader over all her followers, I, the Kahuna, the High Priest who will carry her voice to the chosen people of her chosen land..._

He smiled happily, anticipating the changes he would make, to restore the old ways to Hawaii. The land would return to its former pristine beauty, no longer adulterated and corrupted by the so-called 'tourist industry.' _Pah! Despoilers, all of them!_

 _And I found the perfect one to be Pelè's new mate – no one could fit the conditions better, to be her betrothed._ The boy was perfect in every way; despite that vixen of a redhead who followed him about, he still had managed to retain his purity. _Yes, Pelè will welcome him with joy in her heart!_ He rather regretted it, in some ways – to be obliged to toss such perfection into Pelè's fires to set his soul free. But then it would be free – free to fly to Pelè, and it would all be worth it, of course, to be the beloved of the fiery goddess for all time. He'd been ready to take second-best; he'd had some other options. But then, perfection had arrived on the island just in time.

And he'd found the perfect place for the ultimate sacrifice. It had taken him weeks of searching, of surreptitiously checking this spot and that, He'd finally found just what he wanted – a natural outcropping of hardened lava rock, which extended over a small, but very deep lava flow from the main caldera. The lava lake nearest the top of Kilauea – yes, it was perfection itself.

He would have to be masked, of course, to protect himself from the deadly fumes rising from the crevices – but that was all right; the modern mask would be concealed by a more fitting carved Hawaiian one, so Pelè would not be offended by her High Priest's bow to practicality. He would perform the ritual himself, and then watch the Beloved disappear into Pelè's arms...

He looked around again, and nodded in satisfaction, pulling the big car to a stop. _Here. This will do fine_. He shifted into Park and got out, leaving the motor running, then opened the back door and dragged the unresisting body from the back seat. He dragged it into the scrubby, tangled undergrowth and then easily flung it to the ground, heedless of how it fell. He was about to resume his seat behind the wheel when a thought occurred to him. He got out again, and took something from his pocket, weighing it thoughtfully in his hand. _Yes...if anyone ever finds him, this will point the finger of blame at him...the traitor!_ He reached down and slipped the object into a pocket, then walked back to the car and started off again, whistling as he stepped on the gas pedal.

 _It's time to go to Kilauea – it's time to get ready for the ceremony...time to ready the Beloved for his ceremony..._

And the unconscious form of Quint Kamakele, former _ukali_ to the _Kahuna Nui_ of Pelè, lay battered and beaten and bloody, unnoticed and abandoned in the rank grass.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai and Max2013, for leaving feedback. And I apologize for the time lag between chapters lately.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 26

Frank wasn't sure how much time had passed. He had managed to fall asleep again, despite the discomfort and the chill and the thirst and the utter fear. He supposed it was his mind retreating from the overwhelming terror, hiding in sleep, but he didn't really feel like psychoanalyzing it at the moment.

He was vaguely aware that he'd been lifted – on a litter of some sort, apparently, as he couldn't feel any hands actually _on_ him. He tried to see where he was being taken, for there was a dim light a little way ahead of him. Torchlight? A small flashlight? He wasn't sure. And he couldn't see enough to tell anything about his surroundings, other than he seemed to be in some sort of very dark, very chill cavernous...hallway? A hallway made of rock? That seemed so ludicrous he dismissed the whole idea. Maybe he was dreaming it, was back in that drug-induced lethargy.

He could hear chanting from somewhere ahead, low-pitched and solemn. One voice...answered by many, then one again. It wasn't in a language he understood. Probably Hawaiian...

They entered a large cavern, and Frank blinked in the increased light of additional torches. It _was_ rock! The ceiling and walls of the cave seemed very far away. He stared about as the litter was set down, and felt himself being assisted to his feet. His ankles were untied, permitting him to walk. The surface of the ground was rough against his bare soles.

All the people surrounding him, moving him, helping him – all were shrouded in concealing cloaks and the dark shadows, and no one spoke directly to him – they communicated with silent gestures, or light pushes or shoves. The resonant chanting went on, rising and falling, echoing in the chamber.

Frank found himself being led to what looked like a pole set in rock, but he decided it was a stalagmite, a natural formation in the cave. There was a ring embedded in it, and Frank's hands were uncuffed momentarily, only to be lifted above his head and attached to the pole.

 _I don't like this...I don't like this at all! Dad...Joe...this would be a really good time for you to show up, you know? Let's not put it off any longer, okay?_

The chanting grew a little louder, and then his guardians were murmuring among themselves, very softly.

" _Kahuna! Kahuna Nui!"_

A deep, rumbling voice took up the song, overshadowing all the others. So...the head honcho had arrived. Frank craned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of this person, but although he could tell it was a large man, the newcomer appeared to be masked, and the shifting shadows effectively concealed him from view. Frank's skin crawled with apprehension...no, not apprehension, downright fear!

To his shock, one of the other hooded attendants came forward and abruptly dumped a bucket of chilly water over his head, dousing him thoroughly! He gasped at the shock of the cold water as it ran down over his lightly-clad body, and tasted salt as it trickled into his mouth _. Sea water? It must be..._ He shivered violently, and several more acolytes moved close, wiping him down with rough natural sponges. He wriggled in protest, wanting to demand that they stop, but was stymied by the duct-tape gag still in place across his mouth. It had let in enough water to taste, but didn't allow him to speak!

After the salt-water bath, an oily substance was rubbed onto his skin, something which smelled vaguely of fruit – papaya, perhaps? – and then he could feel something like drawing! He looked down as best he could, and could see them marking on his body with what appeared to be a chalky sort of rock, drawing patterns of some sort. _This is so bizarre – and so awful! It's like some sort of horrible nightmare that I can't wake up from!_

They moved upwards with their marking, and now were working on his face, working carefully around his gag, around his eyes, which he instinctively closed. A girl's voice whispered in his ear, something in Hawaiian, something he didn't understand – and when she kissed his cheek with a regretful little sigh, Frank felt terror wash over him. This was really going to happen! It wasn't a dream, he was really going to be...

He began to struggle violently, trying in vain to tear himself free from the pole, to run away, to escape, some way, any way...! All for naught. Someone – another of the hooded acolytes – placed something on the top of his head. A hat? A _crown_? It felt like it was made of _leaves_...and he recalled the leafy headdresses he'd seen the Hawaiian dancers wearing at the luau.

"You are chosen..." the rumbling voice of the _Kahuna_ intoned. "The blessed of Pelè. The Goddess will welcome you, her beloved, into her arms. She will purge Hawaii of those who taint it, of those who seek to destroy her by denying the old ways..."

Frank wanted to scream _. I'M not denying the old ways! Why are you punishing ME?_ But no words made it past the gag.

"You will be given to Pelè, to stay with her forever," the high priest concluded.

The towering, shadowy figure stepped back and motioned to his assistants. Frank felt his hands released from the ring, but immediately his arms were grasped tightly so that he had no chance of attempting to escape. They began to walk again, and the _Kahuna_ led the way, beginning once more to chant softly in Hawaiian. The big man led them down another tunnel, the torches flickering eerily about them, and they emerged into...light? _Daylight_? It was, it was actual _outside_ , fresh-air, natural-light daylight! Afternoon, from the looks of it.

Frank stared about himself, trying to focus on the light, not on the people holding him, or what he was afraid was ahead. _I'm not so sure I'm getting out of this one. How could anyone possibly find me? How could anyone have the slightest idea where I am? Oh God, I don't want to die this way..._ He was shivering violently, so cold he wasn't sure he would ever be warm again, and then a horrifying thought occurred: _Oh, you'll be warm, all right, Hardy...you don't have to worry about that! When you hit that hot lava, you'll be warm enough!_

He was halted at the cavern entrance, and the ti-leaf skirt he'd been wearing was stripped off; before he could even try to protest, another fresh one was slipped into place. A lei made of fresh flowers – something sweet, but Frank had no idea what they were – was placed about his neck, and then he was pushed outside. Under his feet the ground felt hard and rocky, and warmer than it had been inside the cavern. Gravel, or...he looked down. Hardened lava.

 _Oh God..._

He was turned and led – pushed, pulled – up, and up, and up along the rough, rocky slope, always ascending higher and higher. He was beginning to feel light-headed and somewhat nauseous; there was a distinct sulfurous reek, and a rotten-egg stench in the air. He bent his head and tucked his nose as close to the sweet flower necklace as possible, trying to alleviate the fetid miasma surrounding them. He noticed that his two escorts were wearing masks – modern-day protective masks, not fancy Hawaiian ones, and the others in the party were lagging behind, as if reluctant to keep up with them, because of the fumes, or...some other reason. When they reached the top, Frank could see why. It looked as if the path led out onto a table-like plateau that overlooked...something. From where he was, he couldn't see what it was that it overlooked – and he wasn't sure he wanted to! They halted there...waiting.

The High Priest began to chant again, in earnest now. Hawaiian words and phrases flowed from his lips in a constant liquid stream, and his voice rose, louder and louder. He was tossing flower petals over the edge as he paced about; throwing handfuls of Pelè's own lava-gravel, and a black, sand-like substance which Frank surmised was the volcanic sand-powder from the famous black-sand beaches. He took something else – some sort of powders – from a pouch slung over his shoulder, and tossed them as well, and more scents wafted up. Spices, Frank realized. He couldn't identify them all, but thought he smelled saffron – and paprika. Beautiful, aromatic, exotic scents that served to mask the volcano's putrid reek.

Now he was being pushed and pulled forward again, inexorably, no matter how he struggled and twisted to get free. His hands were yanked behind his back, and tied tightly once again – this time with ropes made of thick vines twisted together, which were wrapped tightly about his wrists and forearms so that he couldn't move them at all.

The _Kahuna's_ chanting rose in volume again as Frank was led forward, and now the terrified young man could see over the edge.

Below him, churning languidly as it moved down the steep slope, was a small but lethal-looking stream of molten lava, glowing fiery red. It flowed sluggishly into a wide crimson-orange pool.

Desperately, he began to struggle – for his life.

#####

Joe was once again sternly resisting the temptation to kick the back of the seat in front of him, much as he might want to! He knew better than to further irritate an already-seriously-annoyed Lt. Dylan McCullough. The man had been grimly silent for awhile now, but Joe knew that he was merely keeping his thoughts to himself: namely, that they were wasting their time. McCullough was of the opinion that Frank couldn't be here in Volcanoes National Park; he was sure that the elder Hardy boy had been taken off-island by boat, and was sticking to that with stubborn tenacity.

Joe didn't agree. He couldn't back up his feelings with hard facts, but the sensation in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the swooping helicopter and everything to do with the fact that somehow he was positive that Frank was here. Somewhere. And he knew that Fenton was feeling the same way. Dylan might sulk, but with Aaron Masukoko and Kimo Pauahi backing up the Hardys, there wasn't much he could do about it.

The helicopter swept over the south end of the island and swung about to make another pass across the park. From their low elevation, they could spot groups of people trudging about, but they were all quite evidently tourist groups. Of the people they sought, there were no signs.

Chief Pauahi turned around in his seat. "There are teams searching the lava tubes," he told the others, over their headsets, "but that's a lot of territory to cover."

Joe sat back dejectedly. _They'll never find him in time,_ he thought in despair. _There's just too many places he could be! It's so big..._ He stared out the Plexiglas window of the helicopter, straining his eyes for any signs of unusual people doing unusual things – of people who weren't standing and snapping photographs of each other and the scenery!

Suddenly something caught his attention, and he sat up straight, lifting the binoculars to his eyes. People, yes – but people dressed strangely, and certainly not carrying cameras. "THERE! Oh God, look! They're there!" he cried, pointing frantically with one hand as he held the binoculars to his face with the other, not daring to take his attention from the sight.

All the sets of binoculars were trained in the direction Joe indicated, and he heard Dylan gasp and then mutter something distinctly profane.

"We've got to get down there right away!" Joe yelled. "They'll kill him if we don't – they're going to throw him—"

"Keep flying," Chief Pauahi barked, as the pilot instinctively had started turning the chopper nose in response to Joe's outcry. "continue in the direction you're going, just in case anyone happened to look up and spot us. Go over that ridge, then we'll be out of sight."

"But—" Joe protested.

"Joe, we have to be careful," Fenton reminded him. "I know we don't have much time, but if they think we're closing in, they may just go ahead and toss Frank in, regardless of ceremony!"

"There's a fairly even lava field up ahead," the pilot reported. "I can set down there."

Pauahi nodded. "Be ready to run for it," he instructed the others, catching their eyes one after the other, then was talking over his headset on another channel again, requesting an ambulance, calling for ground backup, and snapping out directions and landmarks. The other men braced themselves as the helicopter settled to earth with a jarring thump, and scrambled out, ducking under the whirring blades. "Stay with the chopper!" Pauahi shouted to the pilot, who gave him a thumbs-up as he shut down the rotors.

Joe, despite being in the back seat, managed to get out the door first; he'd unlatched his safety belt the instant the whirlybird touched down, and shoved past Captain Masukoko with scant politeness. He broke into a run, stumbling across the broken lava, despite the demands to stop he heard behind him.

"JOE!" A strong hand caught his arm and dragged him to a standstill; Dylan McCullough stood there, panting hard and glaring down at him. "Damnit, wait a minute! You can't just rush off without knowing what everyone else is doing!"

Joe stared at him in frustration, knowing the police lieutenant was completely in the right. "Okay, okay, I will," he said, looking back frantically at the others. "But hurry, please, Dylan, please..."

"God, Joe, I am so sorry..." Dylan squeezed his shoulder briefly as Pauahi, Masukoko and Fenton caught up with them.

The big police chief gestured to their right. "There's a path," he snapped out, "We can go up to get above them, and then cut behind." Without further words he led the way, with Dylan and Joe nearly treading on his heels.

Trotting as silently as possible on the hardened lava, they ascended, leaped over a narrow gap between two cliff-like outcroppings, and stealthily descended again, until they were surprisingly close to where Frank Hardy was being held prisoner. They could hear a deep voice chanting, rising and falling, the sound echoing back from the cliffs and crevices, and it served to mask the sounds of their approach.

The volume of the chanting raised again, and Joe, with rising horror, saw his brother, clad in a leafy loincloth and woven headdress, shoved to the very edge of the overhang. He started to scream "NO!" but his cry was drowned out in a thunderous bellow from Kimo Pauahi: "POLICE! STOP – NOW!" and the police chief charged past him at a dead run.

The large, ornately-garbed High Priest jerked about, his chant dying on his lips in utter amazement, but the moment of surprise was brief. He raised his arms in a defensive posture and grappled with Pauahi, both men rolling over and over on the hardened lava – fortunately, away from the edge!

The acolytes scattered in all directions, shrieking in dismay at this sudden turn of events.

"Frank! FRANK!" Joe screamed, as he saw his brother teeter helplessly on the edge of the precipice, unable to catch his balance with his arms bound at his sides. Joe took a step, ready to spring forward in what he knew would be a vain effort; there was no way he could reach Frank in time...

Dylan McCullough, in an impressive display of acrobatics, leaped past him, snatched at the trailing vine-ropes which bound Frank's arms, and flung himself backwards, pulling with all his might! Frank crashed to the ground, skidding over the rough lava surface. His unprotected skin was abraded – but he was safe. Joe bounded forward, adding his strength to the police lieutenant's, tugging Frank further away from peril.

Chief Pauahi and the _Kahuna_ were locked in what seemed to be deadly combat. Pauahi might have jockeyed a desk for a few years, but he hadn't forgotten the fighting skills he'd learned, and he knew how to use his strength and size against an opponent. However, the High Priest was nearly his equal in size, and seemed to possess similar skills. He pulled back a meaty fist and let fly at Pauahi's face – just as the police chief managed to yank the concealing mask away, revealing the priest's identity!

'EKELA!" Pauahi's roar was deafening. "YOU? You damned..." What he spat at his adversary was likely understood by Masukoko, McCullough, and Ekela, but the Hardys had no idea what it was – but it sounded vile, in any language!

Meka Ekela sneered, and returned abusive insult for insult as he lunged forward again, intent on doing major damage to Pauahi. Captain Masukoko hovered near, gun in hand, but he dared not try a shot, for fear of hitting Pauahi by accident.

Pauahi dodged back from the blows Ekela was raining on him, and attacked with his own, hitting the detective solidly in the face. Ekela stumbled backwards, but managed to lash out with a foot even so, and tripped Pauahi, who fell to the ground. Ekela tried to stamp on the police chief's vulnerable midsection, but Pauahi rolled, and somehow managed to elude the vicious blow. For a brief second they were apart.

That was long enough for Masukoko. He leveled his gun at the big detective. "Freeze, Ekela!" he grated harshly. "You know how it works!"

Meka Ekela stood straight, and spat contemptuously on the ground in Masukoko's direction. "There's no way you can hold me," he boasted. "No way at all. Pelè won't allow it!" He smirked, defying them all. "I am her _Kahuna_ , and she will protect me!"

Chief Pauahi quirked an eyebrow as he scrambled to his feet. "Maybe you don't know the Goddess quite as well as you think," he rumbled, reaching for his own gun. "Now get down on the ground and put your hands behind your head! You're under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder!"

Ekela barked a harsh laugh. "Bah! You fools!" Instead of obeying Pauahi's order, he took a large step – backwards.

Whether the act was purposeful defiance or mischance, there was no knowing. The detective's foot descended...into open space. With a sharp cry, and then a lingering scream, Meka Ekela, _Kahuna Nui_ of the Goddess Pelè, fell backward from the overhanging rock. He tumbled helplessly for a few seconds, still screaming – and then his body hit the crimson lava pool with a sharp _smack!_ One last gurgling cry of "Pelè!" was heard as the High Priest convulsed and slid beneath the bubbling surface.

"My...God." Kimo Pauahi stared down, visibly shaken. And then, somberly: " _Ka'iu lani_ , _Pelè_. You have vanquished the evil."

" _Kahuna Nui!"_ One of the acolytes who had lingered in the vicinity, suddenly rushed forward, grabbing at Fenton Hardy's arm as the man moved to hurry to his son's side. "You killed the _Kahuna Nui!_ You ruined the sacrifice!" With careless abandon, he threw a wild punch directly at Fenton's face.

Fenton dodged the blow, and returned it, bringing his attacker down with a single right hook to the jaw. He rolled the man, put a knee in the small of his back, and looked around. "Somebody loan me some handcuffs!" He noted that Captain Masukoko had moved his gun to cover him and his prisoner, grinning maliciously.

"Here!" Dylan McCullough, still crouched beside the two Hardy boys, tugged a pair of cuffs from his pocket and tossed them to Fenton, who caught them easily and proceeded to cuff his man, then got to his feet.

"Always fun to take out the trash, eh?" Masukoko quipped, and holstered his gun.

"Oh yeah." Fenton sighed and nodded, feeling his energy dissipate as the adrenaline rush abated. "It's nice when the good guys win." Unhindered this time, he moved to join his sons.

Frank had passed out briefly, but his eyes were open now, and he lay sprawled on the rock, supported by Dylan and Joe, with McCullough's jacket wrapped about him. Joe had eased the duct tape off his brother's face as gently as he could, and Dylan had sliced the vines binding him, and given the older boy a drink of water, but as yet, Frank hadn't said anything. He just kept staring at them, looking from one to the other, his dark eyes wide with lingering terror and disbelief that his nightmare ordeal was truly over.

Joe ached for him. He wanted to comfort him, wanted to hug him tightly and never let go, wanted to burst into tears of joy and relief – but he knew that if he did so in this company of police officers, Frank would probably never forgive him. What could he do instead? What could he say? Something that would bring a smile to Frank's ashen, chalk-lined face and lift the fear...? _Ah...yes._ He looked down into his brother's eyes and smiled.

"Nice skirt, bro."


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Sarai, sm2003495 and Max2013, for leaving feedback; I'm glad you're still enjoying it. Almost done!

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 27

Although Chief Pauahi had called for paramedics to come to the lava lake site, he also radioed to the police chopper pilot to bring his helicopter in close. There was no reason for them to walk back all that way, after all, he commented to Masukoko, who agreed wholeheartedly. Shortly thereafter, the aircraft settled gently down on the plateau. Alerted to the situation, the teams of police officers who had been searching the park were now converging as well.

Pauahi and McCullough scrambled down the steep, rocky path to the edge of the lava lake, carefully avoiding the streams of molten lava running into it, to see about recovering Meka Ekela's body, but returned shortly, shaking their heads and looking grim.

"It'll take equipment," McCullough sighed. "It's not possible to just reach in and drag him out, after all." He looked a little green; apparently the noxious fumes – as well as the gruesome situation – had gotten to him.

"Dylan, I think you'd better sit down for a little while." Captain Masukoko took the lieutenant's arm in a firm grip and escorted him to a convenient rock. McCullough opened his mouth to argue, then took another look at the smaller man's expression and decided against it. He sat.

Many of the acolytes and cult members who had been attending the sacrificial ceremony had scattered, running like rabbits, but some had been caught, like the one who had attacked Fenton. They were herded into a group and set under police guard; more were added as the officers coming from various parts of the park rounded them up. It was going to take awhile to get things straightened out, that was certain!

Fenton and Joe, meanwhile, had taken up positions on either side of Frank. Right now, neither of them wished to be too far away from him. They were content to just sit, and let all the police activity swirl around them without interference. Frank leaned wearily against his father's shoulder, half-asleep. He was still dazed from the effects of whatever drugging agents had been used on him in the last 48 hours, as well as queasy from the fumes, but he was happy. Against all the terrible odds, he had been rescued. Now all he wanted to do was get back to the hotel, give Megan a heartfelt kiss, and then crash for about ten hours – in a _bed_ , not on mat-covered rock!

The whirring noise of chopper blades signaled the arrival of another helicopter, this one bringing the paramedics. In a few minutes Frank had been wrapped in blankets and was being given supplemental oxygen, while the EMTs did checks and assessments of his condition. A protesting Dylan McCullough was also briefly put on oxygen, but pronounced unhurt.

"Well, aside from some scrapes from that lava, you don't look to be hurt," Frank was told. "It would be a good idea if we took you back to the hospital and let them check you out, though. Not sure just what you were drugged with, and that plus the volcanic vapors..."

"No," Frank rasped, shaking his head. He cleared his throat and tried again, a little more assertively. "I don't want to go to the hospital. I just want to go back to the hotel and fall into bed."

"Frank," his father began, "it really would be best if you went to the hos—"

"No," Frank repeated. "I'm fine, I don't need to be checked out any more, and I want to go back to the hotel." He gave Fenton a pleading look. "Please, Dad, if I thought it was necessary I would, but I really don't. I spent most of my last vacation in the hospital; I'm not going to spend this one there too!"

Mr. Hardy sighed, but his dark eyes twinkled. "All right, all right. But you know the drill...if you—"

"If I start feeling bad, I'll tell you," Frank filled in. "I know. I know."

The medics grinned at the exchange, and bandaged the worst of the lava-scrapes before they packed up their gear and departed.

When they were gone, Joe looked in some confusion at the controlled chaos going on around them. "How do we get home?" he asked. "We got here in a helicopter, but...can we go back in it? Do they need it to transport other people, or something?"

"You can ride back in it right now," a voice rumbled behind him, and the three Hardys turned to see Kimo Pauahi standing there. "Dylan and I are going to stay here and keep tabs on everything, so that leaves two seats in the chopper. No reason Frank can't sit in one. Captain Masukoko is going back too, since this really isn't his jurisdiction, and will make sure you get to your hotel. We'll need a statement from Frank, of course, but that can wait until later."

Joe sighed with tired relief. It seemed like it had been a very long day. He and Fenton each took one of Frank's arms and led him towards the big police helicopter, where the pilot and Captain Masukoko waited.

"Hey—"

It was Lt. McCullough. He no longer looked so pale, but he _did_ look sheepish. "Um...I just wanted to say again how sorry I am," he apologized to them "Sorry that I didn't want to believe that Frank could be here, I mean. If I'd listened to you – not argued about it – maybe things wouldn't have cut quite so close, you know?" He sighed. "I was so sure that Frank had been taken off-island in some boat or other..."

Joe felt a mean little thrill of satisfaction. He'd been right and McCullough had been wrong! He would have liked to say something to that effect, but his father was already speaking.

"Dylan, you had reasons for believing what you did, and you thought you were right. It's just a quirk of fate that this time you weren't." Fenton smiled. "And you saved Frank's life when you pulled him back from the edge," he added, tilting his head in the direction of the lava lake. "In my book that pretty well squares things."

"Yeah, well...I was glad to do it." McCullough smiled then, and tossed them one of his small salutes. "I'll see you later, at the hotel. Probably tomorrow. Night!" And he was gone, loping over the hardened lava towards the huddled group of cult members.

#####

Thirty minutes later Joe, Frank and Fenton climbed out of the helicopter onto the sand of their hotel's private beach, ducking under the lazily spinning rotors. It might have not been strictly procedure, but the friendly pilot had grinned and nodded when Aaron Masukoko suggested he take the Hardys directly to the Island Resort Spa, and he waved cheerfully at them now.

"Goodnight, Captain! Thank you again!"

Masukoko gave them a very credible version of Dylan McCullough's salute, and a rare smile, as the chopper lifted back into the air.

"Frank!"

They turned at the call, and saw Laura Hardy speeding down the pathway to the beach; close behind her were Vanessa and Megan. During the ride back, Fenton had called his wife on his cell phone to deliver the joyous news of Frank's rescue.

"Mom!" Frank let himself be caught into his mother's arms, and wrapped his own about her, hugging hard. Megan and Vanessa hovered nearby, until Joe reached out and tugged Vanessa against his side. She came willingly and locked her hands about his neck, leaning in to kiss him fervently.

Laura was laughing and crying at the same time, holding Frank as if she never wanted to let go. "WHAT are you wearing?" she demanded at last, pulling back enough to look at her elder son. Frank grimaced in embarrassment; he'd ditched the lei and the headdress, but perforce was still clad in the ti-leaf native skirt.

"Um...a lot of leaves," he mumbled, and hugged her again, then released her into Fenton's arms and turned to Megan. "Baby..." he breathed, and held out his hands.

She didn't disappoint; Megan ran forward and flung herself into his arms, clinging desperately to him and burying her face in his shoulder. Frank felt tears seeping through the fabric of Lt. McCullough's jacket and tightened his embrace. "Megan...baby...it's all right. It's all right..."

"Thought I'd never...see you again," she whispered against his chest.

"Yeah, well..." Frank nodded, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. "You aren't the only one who thought that, Baby." He squeezed her again. "But I'm here. Megan, I'm here! And I'm fine." He started to say something else, and was abruptly caught in an enormous yawn.

Megan pulled back to look up at him, and giggled a little. "It sounds like you'd better get upstairs and go to bed," she advised, and her dimple flashed briefly.

Frank was too relieved to see her smile to be chagrined about his _faux pas_. "I guess so," he agreed. Suddenly he felt so tired he could scarcely stay on his feet, and he staggered slightly.

Megan propped him up, keeping him from going flat on his face and immediately Fenton and Joe were there on either side.

"C'mon, Kamehameha, let's get you upstairs," Joe prodded, and the whole group moved towards the hotel.

Frank yawned again and again.. "Keep me awake until I can take a shower," he requested as he was steered out of the elevator on their floor. "I want to get all this chalk and the other gunk off!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Joe fumbled for his key-card and opened the door to their room. "Welcome back," he announced with a sweeping gesture. "Home sweet home!"

Twenty minutes later Frank was sound asleep. Joe sat on his own bed and watched for a little while, just feeling thankful, but the rumbling of his stomach reminded him that it was past dinner time and he couldn't remember eating anything since a _very_ early breakfast! He got up and wandered across the hall to tap on Vanessa's door. She answered it and he gave her a winning smile.

"Food?" he said hopefully.

She chuckled and drew him in. "Room service," she decided, and handed him the hotel services booklet.

When Joe and the girls finished eating, Vanessa and Megan demanded that they be told all the details of what had happened at Kilauea. Joe, however, was hesitant to try and tell them just yet. It was still too close, still too raw.

"I think I need to wait for a little while," he half-apologized. "But I promise, you'll hear all about it eventually. Just...not quite yet." An idea occurred to him. "What did you two do this afternoon, anyway?"

They told him of their trip to the secluded beach and the interviews with Eli and the others. "None of which told us anything we didn't really already know," Vanessa sighed.

"Well, now that it's over maybe some of them will come forward and give us some more details," Joe said.

"We thought we were going to get to talk to Quint," Megan put in, "because we saw his Hummer go by, and we followed it in the taxi—"

"HUH? You saw Quint? Where? When was this?" Joe was shocked; he had been sure Quint was leaving the island as soon as they'd talked.

"This afternoon, right when we were leaving the beach," Megan replied. "It went right past us, going pretty fast. The taxi driver tried to keep up with it, but it turned off on a dirt road and he said his car couldn't follow fast enough..." She sighed. "We really wanted to catch him, too!"

Joe frowned, disturbed by this news. Quint had been pretty clear about his intentions, and they hadn't included tooling around the island in his Hummer a day later! He felt a niggling sense of worry. Something didn't seem quite right about this.

"Joe, what's wrong?" Vanessa was watching him closely.

"Do you think you could find that road?" he asked in turn, without answering her question.

"Well...maybe. But it's getting dark—" She looked at the windows, at the rapidly-dimming twilight.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Joe stood up, still frowning. "I don't know why, but I think I'd like to check it out." He moved to the door, and went down the hallway to his parents' suite, closely followed by the mystified girls.

After a moment Laura answered the knock. "Joe?" she said in surprise. "Is something wrong with Frank?"

"No, he's fine; he's asleep," Joe replied. "But I need to talk to Dad for a minute." Spotting his father approaching the door, he went on hastily. "Dad, you rented a car, didn't you?"

"Yes..." Fenton said slowly. "We haven't used it yet, but yes, I rented one."

"Can I borrow it?"

"Joe, you know the rental-agency rules – I can't let you take the car—"

"I know, but I think this is important." Quickly, Joe explained about Quint, and what the girls had seen. "I don't know why, Dad, but I really feel like I need to check it out."

His father sighed wearily and shoved his fingers through his hair in a gesture eerily like Frank's. He glanced over his shoulder into his peaceful hotel suite with regret, and then turned back to Joe. "Give me a couple minutes, and we'll go," he said.

"Huh?" Joe was caught off-balance; he blinked at Fenton in bewilderment.

"You and the girls grab whatever you need and we'll go look; I know you won't give me any peace otherwise," Fenton said with a wry smile.

#####

"It was there," Megan said decisively, pointing to the dirt turnoff. "I'm sure that's the one."

"You agree, Van?" Joe asked.

"I think so, yeah," she nodded. "It looks right."

Fenton eased the rental car onto the narrow, two-lane rutted road. "It doesn't look like it's used much," he commented, "and there are some fairly new tire tracks; I think you nailed it, girls. But it looks like they go both ways," he added. "There are tracks in both lanes; whoever went in, came back out. So we may not find anything; keep that in mind."

They drove for some time, following the tire tracks and, as Fenton pointed out occasionally, the indications of a recent vehicle passage: crushed undergrowth along both sides of the road, an occasional low-hung tree limb broken off and lying on the ground. Despite Joe's apprehensions, he was starting to feel discouraged – that this was just another of the many wild-goose chases they'd been involved with – when Fenton slowed the car down and then pulled to a stop.

"Looks like the tracks stop here," Mr. Hardy said. "Whoever it was, turned around and went back the way they came."

"That's crazy!" Joe expostulated, looking around. "There's nothing here! It's just...trees and bushes and stuff!"

"Well, let's take a look." Fenton turned off the engine, but left the headlights on, giving them illumination in the darkness. He got out, reaching back in for a flashlight; they'd made a hasty stop at one of the little ABC stores and purchased several before starting out. Joe, Megan and Vanessa got out as well.

It took only a few moments' examination for the detective to find what he sought. "Look here – someone went through the brush here," Fenton called. "The grass is trampled down..." He bent over and studied the ground closely. Joe and the girls huddled around him closely, adding their flashlights' beams. "It looks to me like something – or someone – was dragged through here. See the marks in the dirt?"

The four moved through the undergrowth slowly, following the faint trail of crushed grass and broken brush, Joe close on his father's heels. The bad feeling he'd had was intensifying.

Fenton stopped abruptly and Joe thudded into his back. "Wha—"

"Oh my God." The elder Hardy bolted forward.

"Dad? What—" Joe peered through the bushes, the wavering beams from the moving flashlights making it difficult to see. And then he glimpsed what his father had seen, and was running as well, stumbling through the tangled grasses. He crouched beside Fenton, who was down on one knee beside a crumpled, blood-spattered figure. Gingerly, Fenton turned the body enough so that they could see the face, and Joe gasped in horrified shock.

"Quint!"


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann, Max2013, Lina, and Candylou for leaving feedback on the last couple of chapters. So very much appreciated!

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 28

"He's...not dead...is he?" Vanessa quavered. She was beginning to feel she'd seen enough bodies here in Hawaii to last her for awhile. She gulped, watching Fenton's hands moving over Quint. She'd been exasperated with the guy, and furious at his part in what had happened to Frank – but she certainly hadn't wanted anything like this to happen to him! She could feel Megan pressed tensely against her as they waited.

"No," the detective said at last, "but he's not good. Somebody – and my best guess would be Ekela – beat him. Badly." He reached into his pocket and brought out his cell phone. "You know," he added ruefully before he dialed, "if I was Dylan McCullough, I'd make it a point to avoid me after this...and I'd never sign up to be a liaison again!"

"It's not your fault!" Joe argued in defense.

"True – but still..." He punched in 911 and waited for the response.

#####

"Joe, I don't know what guardian angel prompted you, but I suspect you saved that kid's life. If he makes it." Fenton put an arm about his younger son's shoulders and squeezed as they walked back into the Island Resort Spa hotel. It was after ten o'clock, and all of them – Joe, Fenton, Vanessa and Megan – were dragging with weariness.

They'd waited in the humid darkness for the arrival of the ambulance, and then followed it to the Hilo Medical Center. Once there, they'd waited again, sitting around in the emergency room waiting area until a doctor had come out to tell them that Quint was stabilized – for now. He made no promises.

A police officer they remembered vaguely from the seminar had shown up at the hospital and taken down what information they had, promised to get all the info to Chief Pauahi and Lieutenant McCullough first thing in the morning, and then advised them to go back to their hotel and get some rest. Not one of them put up the slightest argument.

"I sure hope he makes it," Joe sighed. He felt Vanessa take his hand, and squeezed her fingers, grateful for the silent support. _Frank's gonna be mad he missed all this!_

"I hope so too – not only for humanitarian reasons, but because he's a vital link in finding out what all was going on," his father said grimly. He patted Joe's shoulder as they prepared to go into their own rooms. "Goodnight, kids; see you in the morning. And Joe? I'm proud as punch of you, son." He smiled at the girls. "I'm proud of all of you."

Tired as he was, Joe felt a warm glow filling him at his father's words of praise. He gave Megan a little squeeze, kissed Vanessa goodnight, and went into his room. Hearing the soft breathing of his sleeping brother with immense gratitude, Joe knew he could actually relax and sleep, for the first time in 48 hours.

#####

"He was where?" Frank stared across the table, dark eyes wide. "You're kidding me – man, what a bastard that Detective Ekela turned out to be! Poor Quint."

Joe, who had just finished telling him of their adventures the evening before, nodded and took a drink of juice. "Hope he makes it," he said soberly. "He didn't look good last night, Frank. It's a wonder he survived long enough for us to find him, you know?"

Frank shook his head grimly. His expression lightened as he glanced up and saw Megan and Vanessa approaching their table in the coffee shop. "Hello, baby," he murmured, and got to his feet to take Megan briefly in his arms.

"How are you feeling?" the little redhead asked him anxiously, settling into a chair beside him. Vanessa sat down across from her, completing the square.

"A whole lot better!" Frank assured them. "I'm still kinda sore in spots, from scraping across the lava, and a little fuzzy...whatever they kept making me drink, it's got a long-lasting effect – but overall, not too shabby."

Megan reached for his hand and clutched it tightly between her own, evidently reassuring herself that he was actually there with them. Frank returned the pressure gratefully. "Joe was just telling me about what you guys did last night, finding Quint," he continued.

"Poor Quint," Vanessa murmured. "Have you heard anything about him this morning?"

The boys shook their heads. "No, not yet," Joe said. "Of course, the hospital would probably call Dad, not us – but he'd let us know."

Megan and Vanessa made the rounds of the buffet breakfast and returned to the table with brimming plates; Frank and Joe went back for seconds. Once settled in, the four of them gave their full attention to their meal.

"Real food!" Frank exulted between bites of an enormous overstuffed omelet, hash browns, bacon, and blueberry muffins. "I think the last time I had anything to actually eat was...lunch, New Year's Day!"

"Wow!" Joe's tone was sincerely admiring. "And I thought I liked breakfast – you're going to outdo me this morning, bro!"

"You had dinner last night," Vanessa reminded him. "Frank didn't."

"True." Joe speared a slice of melon off his girlfriend's plate and ate it before she could utter a protest.

###

They were just finishing, lingering over cup after cup of fragrant Kona-blend coffee, when a tall figure entered the coffee shop and looked searchingly around. Joe raised a hand, and Dylan McCullough strode over to them. He annexed a chair from a nearby table and seated himself.

"May I?" He reached for an empty cup and the carafe of coffee in the middle of the table.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Megan said demurely, her eyes dancing.

Dylan took a comforting gulp of coffee, set down the cup and said in a deceptively mild tone: "I hear you were busy last night!"

"Well, you know us, never satisfied until all the loose ends are tied up," Joe replied with a slight smirk. Vanessa lightly bopped him on the back of the head in gentle reproof.

McCullough shook his head in seeming disbelief. "Quint," he said softly. "You actually went out and found him...an absolutely vital witness...incidentally saving his life in the process."

"Have you heard how he is this morning?" Frank asked eagerly.

"I was going to ask how YOU were this morning," Dylan replied, eyeing the elder Hardy with a smile, "but it's pretty evident you're feeling better."

"Much. And – I don't really remember, but I hear you were instrumental in keeping me from toppling into the lava."

McCullough flushed a little. "I was actually instrumental in giving you a whole bunch of scrapes and scratches...but you're entirely welcome, Frank." He cleared his throat self-consciously. "And yes, I was called a little while ago by the hospital. Apparently the Hilo police gave them my name..." He took another sip of coffee, teasingly withholding the information from his curious listeners.

"And...?" Megan widened her eyes and batted her lashes a little.

Dylan gazed at her, then transferred the look to Frank. "You can't deny her anything when she does that, can you?" he asked quizzically.

Frank grinned and shook his head. "Worse, you don't even WANT to."

"Mmph. Okay, well, Quint made it through the night, and has been awake for a few minutes here and there this morning. The prognosis is guarded, but...hopeful."

"His leg...?" Vanessa remembered with a shudder the bloodied bone protruding through the skin of Quint's leg.

"Badly broken, but the surgery went well. He'll walk again...they think. He has several broken ribs, concussion, lots of cuts and bruises from the beating Ekela gave him—"

"It WAS Ekela?" Joe cut in sharply.

"Well, in one of his lucid moments, Quint said that 'the _Kahuna'_ had done it to him. So...yeah."

"Could we see him?"

"Well...no, not yet." McCullough shook his head. "He's not really able to hold conversations just yet. Maybe in a day or two."

"But we have to leave day after tomorrow," Megan lamented.

"It's the 4th already? Jeez, why do I always miss out on half my vacations?" Frank grumbled.

Dylan eyed him curiously. "This has happened before?"

"More than you can imagine," Joe assured him.

"Frank, maybe after breakfast we could have a conversation," McCullough invited, leaving the subject of ruined vacations.

"As in, you'd like to take my statement?"

"Uh-huh. If you feel up to it?"

Frank thought about it for a moment. He was still the slightest bit fuzzy around the edges, but breakfast and coffee had helped immensely. He wasn't sleepy any more...and he was afraid that the more time passed, the more he would forget – and his memories were pretty sketchy as it was! "I think I'd like to do it this morning, yeah."

Dylan looked longingly at the buffet. "After a little while?"

Frank laughed. "Sure, Lieutenant."

"Go ahead and eat," Joe urged. He was surprised at how _un-_ antagonistic he was feeling towards McCullough this morning. With Frank safe and sound, all his animosity had dissipated like dawn mist.

The police lieutenant obeyed without argument, returning a few minutes later to the table with two heaping plates. He settled in and began to eat with gusto. Frank continued to drink coffee, the other three exchanged glances and got to their feet.

"We're going to take off for awhile," Joe said, "so that you two can do your interview without an audience."

Dylan looked up, startled. "Didn't mean to run you off—"

"You aren't," Vanessa assured him. "We've been intending to play miniature golf ever since we got here, and now's the time to do it, before it gets hot and the course gets crowded. You can meet us there later," she added to Frank, who nodded assent.

#####

Laura and Fenton found them there, some time later, just finishing a round. Joe was in a highly triumphant lead, with Vanessa one stroke behind; Frank had purposely muffed a few shots to stay close to Megan, who cheerfully admitted that she was terrible at golf, even miniature golf, and proceeded to prove it with every hole she attempted.

"I win, I win!" Joe watched the ball trickle into the final hole with deep satisfaction. "Hardy skill triumphs again!"

"Not by much," his girlfriend reminded him, following his lead and sinking her own.

"Shall we concede?" Frank inquired, and Megan nodded with a rueful smile and picked up her ball.

"I know I'd come in last anyway, so it doesn't much matter," she said. She walked over to the entrance. "Good morning!" she added, to the Hardy parents.

"Could you expand the game to include two more?" Fenton asked with a smile. "We were looking for something to do." He didn't say what he was thinking: both he and Laura just wanted to stay in eyeshot of their older son as much as possible right now.

"Sure, Dad!" Joe pushed the little gate open to admit his parents. "Bet I can beat you all again!" he challenged.

"You're on," his father said, and went to pick out a club.

###

Three rounds later they decided to call it quits. Fenton had won once, Frank once – after Megan insisted he _try_ instead of sticking at the rear of the pack with her – and Joe once. This, Joe insisted, made him the overall champion, since he'd won the previous games. Frank and Fenton graciously let him cling to his fantasy.

"Dad," Frank said, as they walked back towards the main hotel, "is there any chance at all that we can stay here longer? Not go back on the 6th?" Behind Fenton's back, he caught sight of Joe's enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Fenton looked surprised at the request. "Well, possibly," he hedged, "but why?"

"Well, for one thing, we – me especially – missed two days of it." Frank wasn't above leading with the sympathy card.

As Frank had known they would, both parents looked stricken. "Uh – what about school?" Fenton asked.

"It doesn't start until the 14th. We're fine."

"Girls, your mothers are expecting you home..." Laura paused, looking inquiringly at Megan and Vanessa.

Vanessa grinned cheerfully. "That's why they invented telephones," she quipped. "Really, my mom won't mind. She'll probably say she'd rather have me here than home lying around being bored anyhow!"

"And yours, Megan?"

"I think I can talk her around," Megan said with a whimsical smile. "And I'd truly love to stay longer if it's possible."

Frank leaned down to whisper in his girlfriend's ear. "Use the eyes on Dad, Baby. He'll cave!"

"Besides," Joe moved in for the kill, "we want to make sure all the loose ends are tied up with the case – and we can't talk to Quint yet; Lieutenant McCullough said it might be another day or two until he can see us!"

Fenton looked from one young face to the other, shook his head and admitted defeat. "I'll see if I can book us here until the tenth, how's that? And change the airline reservations."

"YEEEEESSSSSSSS!" Joe slapped palms with Frank; Vanessa hugged Laura and Megan daringly moved to put her arms around Fenton's waist. He hugged her back, laughing.

"Nice Kodak moment," a new voice interjected, and a smiling Chief Pauahi came out of the hotel lobby to meet them. "I've got some news for you," he said.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written in 2006, so technology was not as advanced as it is today. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, all of you who read, enjoyed, commented or didn't comment but still liked reading it! After a day or two we'll start in on _February Flirtations_ , which is again, pure fluff, and quite short.

 **A Fiery December**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 29

"Chief Pauahi!" Fenton strode forward to greet the big police chief.

"What sort of news?" Joe interjected curiously.

Pauahi grinned at him. "Why don't we sit down somewhere shady and drink something cold and I'll tell you?"

This idea was extremely appealing to the Hardy party. Soon the group was seated on the hotel's spacious, shaded lanai, sipping various beverages. The mainlanders waited as patiently as possible for Chief Pauahi to tell them what news he had brought. Finally the big man reached into his pocket and brought out an object which he handed to Frank.

"Found something of yours," he said laconically.

"My wallet! Where'd you get it?" Frank demanded. He opened it up, delighted to find his driver's license and credit card still inside.

"It was found in Quinton Kamakele's pocket," the police chief replied.

"Is THAT his last name? We never knew!" Joe put in.

"Quint took it? Why in the world?" Frank muttered. He looked Pauahi for enlightenment. "Do you know?"

Pauahi nodded heavily. "During a brief period of consciousness, he was asked about it by my man on duty there. The reply was 'I gave it to the _Kahuna_." And since he was barely coherent and heavily sedated, it's not likely he was lying."

"Why would the _Kahuna_ have wanted it?" Vanessa wanted to know.

"Power – _mana_ ," the chief answered. "Possessing something of Frank's would have given him power over him."

"Ew." Vanessa's curled lip evinced her disgust.

"And," Pauahi added, "I'm sure he felt Frank wasn't going to need it any more anyhow. And it would have been 'tainted' by belonging to a _malihini_ , after all."

"So if Quint gave it to Ekela, how did it get back to him?" Fenton asked, although he suspected he already knew the answer.

"My best guess would be that Ekela replaced it on Quint after the beating, when he dumped him," replied Pauahi. "Although that can't ever be proved, of course." He smiled. "But that's not all."

They waited, not very patiently.

"We rounded up a bunch of the cult members and acolytes, you know," the police chief told them, "such as that guy you knocked out, Fenton. And most of them have been singing like little Warbling Silverbills. We've found out a lot – not everything yet, but we're working on it.

"For instance, the one who attacked you goes by the name Kaleka Akana. While Quint was apparently first acolyte until his fall from grace, this Akana was definitely second-in-command, and privy to as many of Ekela's secrets as he was willing to share." He shifted in his chair. "Which wasn't much, unfortunately."

"Why did he choose Frank?" Laura asked softly, her eyes fixed on her eldest son.

"Because he fit all the criteria in that damned corrupted poem so well," Pauahi snorted. "Apparently they'd chosen someone else before Ekela saw Frank – maybe not the 'perfection' that they desired, but close enough – but when Frank arrived, that choice went out the window. Ekela wanted to perform his sacrifice at New Year's...and he was sure that the Goddess Pelè had provided this perfect specimen for his ritual."

"Coincidence," Vanessa murmured, shaking her head at the capricious whims of Fate.

"How did they know...um...why was Ekela so sure I was...um...so perfect?" Frank flushed as he asked the question.

"Akana didn't have the answer to that one, but another of our prisoners did – a girl called Aolani—"

"AOLANI!" Four voices echoed the name.

"The juice!" Joe cried. "She gave us the bottles of juice – and...and..." He paused, frowning.

"And it knocked us out," Frank finished for him. A vague memory of being interrogated by a gentle, soothing voice tickled at the edges of his mind. "Did Ekela...hmmm...question us?"

"He evidently came to your hotel room and 'interviewed' you," Chief Pauahi nodded. "Of course since he was staying at the same hotel, and was attending the conference and he was a police officer, no one thought the slightest thing of him roaming around the hotel at odd hours of the night, or questioned his right to do so." He sighed heavily. "I am ashamed," he added, very low. "To have the spirit of _aloha_ so...tarnished. For someone to have done this to a guest in our land. Please believe me when I say that not all native, full-blood Hawaiians are like that."

"It wasn't your fault!" Joe protested. "And you did everything in your power to help find Frank."

Pauahi just shrugged a little. "His captain nearly had a stroke when he heard what had happened," he went on after a moment. "We're investigating every aspect of his life now, of course...it turns out that Ekela owned a cabin here on the Big Island, although his main home was on Maui. So again – no one questioned it when he would come over here on his days off. Inter-island flights aren't expensive; people commute all the time. I sent a team out to check that property – perhaps he left notes, a diary – something." He shook his head somberly. "I didn't know him until the seminar," he added. "He was just a name on a roster. And he evidently kept his...mania...under careful control most of the time. So no one knew it was anything more than a hobby...like genealogy, perhaps."

"Is Quint going to be charged with anything?" Frank asked. "Did he actually do anything, other than take my wallet for Ekela?"

"From what I'm hearing from Akana, he – and Aolani as well, to some extent – was more or less an innocent dupe," the police chief replied. "He liked the idea of restoring old ways to the islands, but he certainly didn't agree with Ekela's methods, when push came to shove. We can find out more about that when he's able to talk to us."

"We'd like to talk to him too," Joe said firmly.

"If it's just that – then I'm not going to press charges about the wallet," Frank said quietly. "If he hadn't talked to Joe – well, he was...he saved my life, pretty much."

The strident buzz of a cell phone interrupted their sober conversation, and Pauahi grimaced. "Excuse me a moment," he apologized, and snapped the phone open. "Pauahi!" He listened, and his eyebrows elevated in surprise – and a delighted grin spread across his face. "That's the best news I've heard all day – get on with the IDs and such. _Mahalo_!" He ended the call and turned to the Hardys and the girls, his wide grin still in place. "WELL!"

"What is it?" Fenton asked.

"One more loose thread," the big police chief chuckled. "The investigative team that went to Ekela's place here found something very interesting." He paused, his eyes twinkling at his listeners' impatience.

"Tell us!" Megan coaxed.

"They found five vehicles...vehicles which have been stolen here in the Hilo area in recent weeks," Pauahi announced. "Including, I might add, Captain Masukoko's silver Mercedes. Some of them have had a few things stripped off, but the Mercedes is...untouched!"

Vanessa bounced and clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, I'm so glad! He'll be so pleased!"

"You can say that again," Joe breathed, recalling the captain's ire over his missing car.

"Wasn't it awfully risky to steal Captain Masukoko's car?" Megan asked.

Pauahi chuckled. "Very," he agreed. "Although I doubt that the youngsters who actually took it knew whose it was. I'm just guessing, but I suppose Ekela got a laugh out of taking Aaron's car right from under his nose!" He got to his feet. "Excuse me for just a moment. I'm going to call and tell him right now. I need to ask for the number of his hotel, since he left here." He strode off towards the lobby, still beaming.

"Now I wonder why on earth the man was stealing cars!?" Laura said, her forehead puckering in a frown.

"Finances, likely," Fenton speculated. "Even religious fanatics have to pay bills occasionally."

"And if he had his 'acolytes' working for him, it would have tied them to him – given him something to hold over them to keep them loyal to him," Megan mused. "You said Quint thought Joe was going to accuse him of stealing cars..." She stopped, flushing, when all the Hardys stared at her. "What?"

"Sometimes I forget why you're a Crim, Jus. major, Baby!" Frank said and leaned to kiss her cheek. "You're one smart cookie, you know that? I think you nailed that one."

"So the two guys you overheard on the beach were probably working for the _Kahuna_ ," Megan nodded her satisfaction at this deduction.

Pauahi was returning now, still smiling broadly. "Aaron is one very happy man right now," he announced. "The investigative team is going to bring his car to him this afternoon – and woe to anyone who puts a scratch in the finish!"

Joe leaned close to Vanessa to whisper in her ear. "He probably PETS it," he murmured, "and talks to it." She giggled.

"About the only thing left that hasn't been explained is the murder of Kachina Malari," Megan said, smiling at Frank when he looked bewildered. "You missed all of that, darling...just as well!"

"I have my suspicions," Pauahi sighed, "but proving it is something else. In all likelihood Ekela shot her with his service revolver. No one questions a police officer wearing a weapon; no one would have thought to check any officers' guns for recent firing. He was right there, pretending to assist in looking for Frank. He heard her say she saw Frank being taken, and he had to get rid of her – and so he took the quickest way. But with no witnesses...I'm hoping we can find his gun and match ballistics, but we'll see." He shook his head doubtfully. "Well, I need to go – I have work to do. I'll see that you're informed when Quint can talk to you, if you're still here."

"I believe we're staying a few extra days," Fenton said, smiling at his family. "Frank feels he was gypped out of part of his vacation, and wants a chance to do some tourist-y things yet."

"Ah, good!" Pauahi beamed again, expansively. "Enjoy yourselves! Please, let me know if there's anything I can do for you. Oh—" he added, "your extra hotel bill will be picked up by the Hawaii police, of course...I'll tell Dylan to put it on his expense account!" He winked and left; his loud chuckles floating back to them.

"I think I'd better go make those arrangements," Mr. Hardy said, and was about to leave when he halted and turned back. "Kids...?"

"What is it, Dad?"

"What about the helicopter trip over Kilauea?" Fenton looked from one to another. "Do you still have any wish to do that?"

Not surprisingly, they all looked at Frank. He flushed under the scrutiny, but appeared to be thinking hard. Finally he looked up and met his father's anxious eyes. "Yes. I'd like to go," he said softly. "As soon as we can."

#####

"You can have ten minutes," the officious-looking nurse told them. "but please be careful not to tire him out. He's still very weak."

"We will," Megan assured her, and they entered Quint's hospital room on tiptoe.

The dark-haired figure in the bed turned his head at their approach. "Hey," he murmured, and then his eyes widened as he beheld Frank. "You – you're okay!" he gasped. "Nobody told me, _brah_ ; I thought you...thought..."

"Settle down," Joe commanded gently, and patted the Hawaiian boy's shoulder. "We promised the nurse we wouldn't let you get excited."

Quint couldn't seem to take his eyes off Frank. "I'm so glad," he whispered. " _Mahalo_ , Pelè. _Mahalo_ _nui loa._ "

###

Their ten minutes were nearly up, but Quint seemed determined to get everything off his chest. If confession was good for the soul, Quint's was going to be in great shape.

"I knew the _Kahuna_ was planning this ceremony for months...way before Frank ever came to the island," he murmured tiredly now. "He would have settled for someone...lesser...if he had to. He might have even chosen a Hawaiian, if everything else fit. But when you came, _brah_ , well..."

"I just _had_ to fit his poem so well," Frank commented a little acidly.

"So sorry..." the breathy murmur went on. "Should have known...he was _lolo_...crazy. Too late – didn't figure it out until Frank was..."

"Quint, chill. Over and done with, okay?"

"O-okay."

"Have they said yet when you can get out of the hospital?" Joe asked, striving for a subject change.

"Nah. Going to take awhile for everything to heal, I guess. Gotta do rehab after I get out of here anyway. You know, rehab place?" Quint sighed dolefully. "Guess my beach volleyball days are over, _heya_?"

They nodded. The boy's leg had been repaired with surgery and screws holding it together, but the doctors had said it would always be slightly shorter than the other one, and weaker. Quint would never soar into the air for one of his awesome spikes again.

"My punishment, I guess," he said sadly. "Serves me right. Pelè knows."

What could they say? He was convinced he'd been punished for his part in the scheme, even though he hadn't intended harm to come to anyone.

"You're alive," Megan said softly, "and you're going to get well again," and Quint turned his dark eyes in her direction and smiled a little.

"You're right, Mekana, and I guess I'm glad to still be alive." He shifted a little in the bed. "When do you leave Hawaii?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Vanessa told him.

"Then I won't see you again before you leave. _Aloha_ _`oe_ _._ _Kipa hou mai"_ He smiled at their bewildered expressions. "Goodbye...and come back again – 'kay?"

"We'll try, Quint...we'll try."

#####

"Joe, you are NOT going to buy that shirt! If you even try, I will wrap it around your neck and strangle you with it!" Vanessa stared in exasperation at her boyfriend, who was regarding her with dancing blue eyes and teasingly holding up a blue t-shirt with the intriguing comment " **I Came to Hawaii and Got Lei'd** **"** printed across the front in large, curvy script.

"Aw, but Vanessa..."

"NO!" She snatched the shirt from his hands and returned it to the stack on the display table.

Frank and Megan watched, laughing, but after a moment Megan's face sobered a little. She tugged Frank's hand, pulling him slightly away from the other two, who continued to wrangle over Joe's choices of souvenir shirts.

"We have to talk about that, you know," she murmured.

"Talk about what, Baby?" he asked, perplexed.

"What Joe's shirt said. One of the main reasons you were chosen to be Pelè's betrothed."

"Oh. Um..." He rubbed his chin, looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. "We do, huh?"

"Uh-huh." She smiled mysteriously. "I'm not sure I want to take any more chances like that."

He chuckled and pulled her against him in a tight embrace. "Me neither, Baby...me neither. We'll…we'll talk."

The End


End file.
